Sealed with a Kiss
by stress
Summary: You should listen to your heart, and not the voices in your head. [MURDER!MYSTERY] Layna Kotliar is a girl with a secret so big that she doesn't even know it herself. But Kisses does. And Kisses doesn't like David. [DAVID LOVE STORY]
1. I LAYNA

**Title**: _Sealed with a Kiss _(_C&K_, an author's cut)

**Author**: Stress

**Summary**: Layna Kotliar is a girl with a secret so big that she doesn't even know it herself. Will she be able to trust David with it or will she continue to rely on the only friend she's ever known, a simple leather-bound journal?

**The translations**: As you will see as the fiction begins (and continues), Layna is a French immigrant. Therefore, much of what she says is in French. When the dialogue called for it I tried to include a translation but not always. However, I will include translations at the bottom. Hopefully it will add to the experience of the story.

**Author's Note**: This fiction piece was first written in the summer of 2002 and called _Cowboys & Kisses_ (the original is still archived on As the years have progressed, and I have grown as a writer, I have gone back over my fiction and cleaned up/edited/rewritten many parts that I didn't like anymore. However, with _Cowboys & Kisses_, I decided that an author's cut was the best solution to reworking that piece. I am much happier with the new characterization of Layna and I hope you all agree. I stuck to the main plot of the original story, but with many tweaks and additions. I hope you guys enjoy – _Stress_.

--

**I. **LAYNA

Cowboys and kisses  
Gotta find myself every time you go away…

**12 August 1899**

**_Mon journal_,**

**It happened again. I was sitting with _les jumeaux Lynchez_ – the Lynch twins – by Kayla's bunk this afternoon when it happened. I don't know why it happened but it did. One moment we were talking and it happened. Again…**

"Oh, Layna, you're such a joker," Kayla Lynch said in her Irish brogue. She flipped her long red curls over her shoulder and grinned at dark-haired girl sitting on the bunk in front of her.

"_Vraiment,_ Kayla? I had no idea that you felt that way," Layna Kotliar's blue eyes gleamed with mischief as she basked in the attention she was receiving from Kayla and Ryan. The twins, two of her friends in the 5th Street Orphanage, were listening to Layna reminisce about her early childhood in Chalosse, located in the southern part of France. Well, _friends_ was a very strong term; they were more like her companions, really. Layna hadn't had any real friends or confidantes, apart from her battered diary, since _that day _when she was seven years old. _That _day, almost eleven years ago.

"And you're such a pretty joker, too," Ryan added, his green eyes twinkling as he winked in her direction.

Layna blushed and turned her head. Ryan had been acting very different with her for the past few weeks and she was getting a little bit nervous. She had asked Kayla about her brother's actions and was worried to hear that he was trying to make her his "mot". Kayla found it quite humorous when Layna had to ask what exactly a "mot" was; she laughed harder still when Layna paled to learn that "mot" was, where the Lynch twins grew up, slang for "girlfriend." Despite her reputation, Layna was afraid of guys and barely knew how to act around them. "_Merci_, Ryan," she answered, not quite meeting his eyes.

Ryan got up from the bunk from which he was perched and approached hers. "No problem," he whispered before taking a seat beside her. When she didn't move away from him, he leaned over and slung an arm over her shoulder. No one could accuse Ryan Lynch of being shy.

Once she felt his arm's weight settle on her Layna grew rigged and stiff. _It was happening again…_

_"Hello, there. What's a little girlie like you doin' out in the big, bad Manhattan streets by yourself?" The man, old, dirty and, by the look and smell of it, extremely drunk, slurred in the seven-year-old Layna's direction as she stood on the street in front of her parents' apartment building._

"Excusez-moi, monsieur _I'm waiting for Papa." Though her mother and father always warned her not to speak to strangers, Layna was never one to listen. As it had only been a few months since the Kotliar's moved from their small farm in Chalosse to America, her parents had not been able to impress the importance of avoiding strangers in such a big city._

_"Really... And where may this Papa of yours be, my little Frenchy?" The man walked over to Layna so that she was standing directly in front of him. Despite the summer heat Layna shivered._

_"He's just inside the apartment an–" Layna's words were cut off when the man placed his hands over her mouth and enveloped her in a tight bear hug. Despite the dirt and odor of the man's hand Layna did the only thing she could do – she bit down on his hand and hard._

_"Why you…," the man cursed as he moved his hand from her mouth giving her the opportunity to shriek one word: "Papa!"_

_The streets, except for the man and the struggling child, were empty. Her yell echoed through the night sky. Mere moments followed before a man emerged from the apartment. He paused on the porch where a second figure – a woman—appeared next to him. Layna and her would-be captor were, at this point, just on the opposite of the street. Though the man had intended to get away with the child, he stopped when Philippe Kotliar ran forward and pointed at him. The shine of the moon glinted off the graying hair of the man and illuminated the terror on his face. "_Arrêt, bâtard_! Put my daughter down, you street trash!"_

_The man threw Layna easily to the side and ran at Philippe. He may not have understood the first part of the man's yell, but he sure understood that he was being insulted. "You shouldn't a said that pal," he yelled. Philippe had not time to lower his arm, let alone react to this advance, before the man withdrew a small knife from his pocket and thrust it into Philippe's side._

_"Philippe, _mon amour_, no!" cried Marie Kotliar from her post on the porch. Without thinking she ran forward and threw her arms around her dying husband. "_Pourquoi_? Why? How could you?" she sobbed at the man who stood crazed in the moonlight._

_"Just like this," he sneered as he plunged the knife, the same knife used to kill her husband, directly into Marie's backside. "Now, for my prize," he said to himself. Leaving the murdered couple on the dirt in front of their building he turned to grab the little girl._

_But she was gone._

"Layna, are you alright?" Kayla's face floated before her eyes. It was a face feigning concern, with fear behind it. _Fear._ She was afraid of Layna.

Layna stumbled off of the bunk and fell to the floor. "_Oui, je suis bien_ – I mean, yes, yes, I'm fine." She lifted her right hand to her head and tried to relieve the throbbing pain. Her head always hurt when the memories resurfaced…

Ryan slowly backed away from Layna, disgust written all over his face. "No she ain't, Kayla. This one's off her nut."

Layna looked up at the boy, shaking slightly. "Ryan..."

"You're gone in the head, Layna. Normal people don't just do that." He continued walking backwards, his hand reaching behind him to find the doorknob. "Kayla, let's go. I want to talk about Madame Pearson about getting this header out of our wing."

Kayla looked where Layna remained sitting on the floor. "Bye, mentaller." With those last spiteful words, Kayla followed her brother out of the bunkroom.

- - -

**_Mon dieu_, I won't be able to ever face them again. I'm still shaking, though I don't know if it's because of the spell or their reaction to it. Every time I've had those spells, ever since the day I lost my family, I've been alone so no one has had to witness it. But that changed today. The two people who were the closest I've ever had to friends now think I'm an _idiot_, crazy. I can't live with people who know think that something's wrong with me. I've kept my past in the past ever since I came to live in this place – I don't think that anyone ever need no about my parent's death. And, _oui_, I know there's only a week until my eighteenth birthday. And I know that once I'm eighteen I could leave the orphanage forever. But I thought I might actually have people who wanted me to stay -- now I can't wait that week. It's just you and me, journal, just the way I like it. I--**

"_Merde_," Layna swore, throwing down her pen on her bunk, as a sharp pain blinded her momentarily. She rested her head into her hands, letting her long, straight, black hair fall over her shoulders. It was happening again. For some godforsaken reason, it was happening again.

_Layna panted heavily as she hid behind a box in a nearby alley. She trembled slightly as she held onto her knees and choked back a sob. _Gone. _Mama and Papa were _gone

_"Frenchy? Little girl? Where are you? Eddie don't wanna hurt you, he wants to be your friend..." From the sound of his voice the dirty man was getting closer and closer. And she had nowhere else to go._

_Layna pulled herself to her knees and peeked out from behind the box. The man was out, standing in the dim moonlight, right across from the alley where she lay hidden. Layna gasped in surprise when she saw the man still brandishing the large knife that had just murdered her parents. This man wanted to be her friend? If he wanted to be her friend, why did he hurt Mama & Papa?_

_The man, Eddie, paused when he heard Layna's gasp. "C'mon, Frenchy. Eddie's gonna be your friend. You'll like Eddie, promise."_

_Layna curled back up into a ball and stopped breathing for a moment. She couldn't let the man find her._

Layna woke up in surprise, still laying flat on her belly, her right cheek glued to the page she had been writing on. "_Oh mon_, I must have dozed off there," she murmured to herself as she rubbed her head. The headache was slowly fading, but the memories would always be there.

She sat up on her bunk and tried to remember what had been happening right before she had fallen asleep. She scrambled to her feet and ran to the window. The sun had already begun its daily descent; she had only been asleep for a few hours. "_Bien_, it's still dark out." Grabbing a worn leather bag from under her bunk Layna shoved the few shirts and long skirts she owned and the ragged sheet on her bed inside and pocketed her journal. She left the bunkroom, pausing to look sadly at the row of bunks. No one was there to see her off.

She quietly crept down the three flights of stairs until she was in the lobby. Judging by the grandfather clock that stood in the center, there was still enough time to go outside before curfew. If you behaved enough to put yourself in the headmistress's good graces, Madame Pearson would let you go out as long as you were back by eight.

"Where are you going, Mademoiselle Kotliar?" Madame Pearson inquired, gesturing to the bag clutched in her hand. The eagle-eyed head of the orphanage let nothing get past her.

"Just to visit some of my friends, Madame Pearson. I'll be back well before curfew." _Friends?_ What a lousy excuse.

"Of course, mademoiselle. Don't forget, though, curfew is only an hour away." Madame Pearson didn't really care what you were doing as long as you your answers were exactly what she wanted to hear her.

"Oui, Madame. _Au revoir…_" Au revoir, _forever..._ Layna finished the thought in her mind, sadly, as she exited the doors of the 5th Street Orphanage for the last time.

Once she was outside, though, a faint smile came to her face and she breathed a sigh of relief. _Freedom..._ It was like this every time she requested leave from the facility. She never realized how much the exactly the cramped orphanage crowded her until she went outside. She walked a good distance away from the orphanage before she lost her nerve and returned.

After a considerable amount of street stood between her and her the orphanage, she approached an old statue. "Now where do I go from here?" She looked all around the dim and dirty streets of New York as she leaned up against the brass structure. She hadn't thought about that before she left the orphanage, but she was not prepared to go back and face the horrified faces of Kayla and Ryan. Once was enough for a lifetime.

Her thinking was still impaired by a slight throbbing in her skull. Figuring that it would be better to sleep her faint headache off, Layna slumped down against the base of the stature, momentarily registering the name of the figure: _Horace Greeley_. "Go west, young man" the epitaph underneath read and she laughed. "_Si_ _seulement, _if only," she murmured before pulling her sheet out of her bag. It was a nice summer evening and the thin sheet was sufficient to keep her comfortable as she leaned her head back against the plaque.

Layna stretched her arms and snuggled up against the base trying to find the softest patch of dirt on the roadside. She yawned and reached back into her bag, pulling out her journal. With a sigh, she opened her journal with the intent to finish her previous entry.

**_Mon cher_, Layna, **

Layna giggled in excitement. The high-pitched sound escaped her thin lips without her even realizing it. There was another message, a new message, in her journal just following Layna's earlier script. Her eyes raced through the childish scrawl on the page eager to see the signature at the bottom. _Kisses_. She did not know who this Kisses was, or how she was able to write in Layna's journal when it never left her side but the young author never failed to leave her encouraging little messages.

**_Mon cher_, Layna,**

**Don't be nervous and don't be afraid. It's just you and me, Layna, just like it's always been. Those _idiots_ were just holding you back, keeping you from yourself. Don't pay any attention to their hurtful words-- they don't know anything about us. Anyway, even if they did, they wouldn't understand. Nobody ever will. It's just you and me, Layna. I will protect you.**  
**  
Kisses**

Layna fell asleep under the moonlight, a smile on her face. Kisses' messages often had that effect on her.

**--**

**Translations**:

_Mon journal_ – My journal  
_les jumeaux Lynchez_ – the Lynch twins  
_Vraiment_ – Really  
_Merci_ – Thanks  
_Excusez-moi_ _­_– Excuse me  
_Arrêt, bâtard_ – Stop, bastard  
_Mon amour_ – My love  
_Pourquoi_ – Why  
_Oui, je suis bien_ – Yes, I am good  
_Mon dieu_ – My God  
_Merde_ – Shit  
_Oh, mon_ – Oh, my  
_Bien_ – Good  
_Au revoir_ – Goodbye  
_Si_ _seulement_ – If only  
_Mon cher_ – My dear


	2. II SECRETS

**Title**: _Sealed with a Kiss_

**Author**: Stress

**Summary**: Layna Kotliar is a girl with a secret so big that she doesn't even know it herself. Will she be able to trust David with it or will she continue to rely on the only friend she's ever known, a simple leather-bound journal?

**The translations**: As you will see as the fiction begins (and continues), Layna is a French immigrant. Therefore, much of what she says is in French. When the dialogue called for it I tried to include a translation but not always. However, I will include translations at the bottom. Hopefully it will add to the experience of the story.

--

**II.** SECRETS

Baggy blue jeans and a box of magazines  
Is all I have of you…

**13 August 1899 **

**_Mon journal_,**

**You'll never believe what happened to me today. It all started when I was shaken roughly awake this morning...**

"Hey girly, wake up." The young man sneered down upon Layna, while waking her up. He turned back and grinned cheekily at his two companions before shaking the girl's shoulder.

Layna's eyes sprang open and she jumped to the side when she saw three people standing in front of her, two boys and a girl, all around her age. By instinct, Layna reached for her journal and clutched it to her chest before brushing the sheet off of her. She pulled herself to her knees and began to ramble in French. "_Qui sont vous ? Que voulez-vous?"_

The girl saw that Layna was frightened and scowled. She reached forward and smacked the boy on his arm. "Morris Delancey, what do you think you are doing? Can't you see the girl was tryin' to sleep?"

Morris forgot about Layna for the moment and turned to face the other boy. "Oscar, can't you keep Gip's mouth shut for once? She's your girl after all."

Oscar wrapped his arms around Gip protectively. "I'll do no such thing, Morris. Gypsy can say anything that she likes – I ain't gonna be the one who tries to stop her."

Morris rolled his eyes. "Why did my brother have to fall for that girl? And, she's a newsie no less. Damnit, Oscar."

Gip broke free from Oscar's embrace and stepped forward, calmly reaching for the knife she kept hidden in her boot as she did so. Oscar caught the motion and pulled her close to him again. "Morris, I know you still don't like the newsies and all but they ain't so bad since the strike ended last month."

Morris narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Oscar, you are only saying that cause now that you're going with Gip, Cowboy don't soak you no more." He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. His brother at least had the decency to look embarrassed at the accusation.

As the two brothers quarreled Layna began to gather her things up so she could sneak away from them quietly. "_Chacun_ _est idiot_," she murmured to herself as she got to her feet slowly. Once the sheet had been stowed away, and her journal was tucked in her bag gently, she made to get away.

Morris heard the rustling and turned around. "And where do you think you're going? I ain't done talking to you yet."

"Morris, if you're gonna stay here and torture poor girls, we're gonna leave you alone to do it. We gotta head over to the distribution center to help Mister Reilly keep those newsies in line. Now be nice," Oscar said as he gently led Gip away. He saw the fire in her dark eyes and was afraid that Gip was going to attempt to soak his brother.

Morris ignored Oscar's comments and rounded on Layna. "What are you doing sleepin' out here on that dirty statue? And what's all that gibberish you're speaking? Can't you talk American?"

Layna clamped her mouth shut and began to tremble. Mon dieu_, I should have stayed in the orphanage, after all…_

Morris looked at Layna quizzically and his tough expression softened. "Hey, are you alright?" He reached out his hand to try to calm her. He ignored the frightened look on her face as he let it fall and rest on her shoulder.

Layna's hand flew to her head as she shrieked in pain stopping only briefly to take two steps to the side in order to get away from Morris. It was happening again…

_The seven-year-old girl remained as still as it was possible for a seven-year-old to be. Even at such a young age, she was aware of the danger she would be in if that man, that Eddie, found her._

_"Honey, I know you're over here somewhere. And when I find you," the threat was left hanging and all Layna heard was approaching footsteps. His voice paused and, when he spoke again, it was in a much oilier voice than before: "Why good evening officer."_

_Layna's_ _breath caught in her throat when she heard another voice. "Why sir, may I ask why you have a knife behind your back."_

_"Knife, officer?_ _What knife? Oh, do you mean this knife?" _

_Layna poke her head out from behind her hiding space once more and nearly shrieked when she saw the man lunge at the policeman. "No!" she yelled, running forward. She couldn't let him hurt another person._

"No!" The seventeen-year-old Layna yelled out loud and drew herself in before collapsing to the ground. At that moment close contact was something she could not manage.

"Shit," swore Morris as he witnessed the girl fall. "What the hell is going on here?" he muttered as he reached out and poked her on the arm. When she didn't move, he lifted her into his arms. All he had done was try to reassure the girl that he wasn't going to do anything to her and she had started to quake. Her eyes had rolled to the back of her head so that only the whites of her eyes were shown and then she yelled the one word before passing out. He had been the only one to witness this fit; he had to find somewhere to bring the girl. Obviously something was very wrong with her.

"Hey Morris, what do you think you're doing?" A voice, loud and gruff, rang out from the direction of the distribution center. Morris almost dropped the girl; it was the voice of the only person who had been able to soak him repeatedly – Jack "Cowboy" Kelly.

Morris slowly turned around and grinned what he hoped was an innocent grin; the result was that his action looked shadier than it would have. He was right. Approaching him from the opposite side of the street was Cowboy, his selling partner, David and his girl, Stress. "Cowboy, Stress, Davey. How are you? Nice to see you all this fine summer morning."

Jack and David remained back while Stress kept walking. She had not noticed the girl at first. However, when she did, she paused just like the other two boys. Gasping, she pointed at Layna's limp body. "Delancey, what do you think you are doing with that girl?" she demanded, her golden eyes flashing yellow.

Morris, on the other hand, wasn't about to give any answers to Jack's new girl. She was a good half a foot shorter than he was and quite slim. What, exactly, could she do to him if he didn't answer? "It ain't none of your business, Stressie, _dear_," he drawled sarcastically as he tried to walk past the three of them.

Cowboy handed his stack of papers to David and stepped forward. Morris gulped. Now he knew why he should have answered her question. "First of all, _Morris_, the only one that can call Stress by that name is _me_. Second of all, if she asks you a question, you sure as hell better answer her. Understood?"

Morris nodded meekly. He liked to talk tough, and even didn't mind fighting when his opponent was smaller and weaker than he was. But he got a bit nervous when actual violence was a possibility. And, with Jack and his temper, anything was a possibility.

Stress laughed and moved so that she stood by Jack's side. "And, like I said, Morris, what are you doing with that girl?"

Morris gulped and contemplated how quick he could get away. If he paused to place the girl down, the three could be on in him minutes. Though Dave would go down easy and Stress was a girl, he knew he couldn't take on Cowboy alone. If he ran off still holding the sleeping girl, he would never be able to outrun them. He gulped again and sighed. _Better stick to the truth_. "I-I-I found her like this." _Or, at least, something like it_.

"Liar," she said with a touch of humor. Then, turning to face Jack, she announced loudly, "Hey, Jack, I think he's lying to us, don't you?"

Adopting her bemused expression, Jack nodded. "Yes, Stressie. I definitely think that he's lying. Morris," he said, now addressing Morris, "since you chose to lie to us, I'm only gonna give you to the count of none to put the girl down and leave her there. We'll take care of her."

Morris looked at the delicate girl in his arms and shrugged. She was too much trouble even if she did have a pretty face. "Here you go, Cowboy. Enjoy," he sneered, trying to look intimidating. In reality, he only looked like an idiot as he placed Layna into Jack's arms and strutted off. But, before he got too far away, he threw back a parting shot. "Have fun with that one, fellas. See if you can even make anything of her gibberish."

The trio ignored his shouting and focused on the girl who lay sleeping in Jack's arms. "Well, Stressie, I don't think we're gonna be selling our papes right now." Jack shifted Layna in his arms so that he would be able to point to the papers still in David's hands before placing his under her back for support. "First things first, though. Do you girls got any extra bunks over at Bottle Alley, Stress?"

She nodded, long blondish-brown curls bobbing up and down in rhythm with the movement. "Mrs. Cook is always saying that we could use a couple extra girls in the Home."

"Good. David, do you wanna come with us to find out exactly who this girl is or would you rather go find your brother and sell with him?"

David, whose eyes had been glued to the unconscious girl the whole while, looked up abruptly upon being spoken to. "What, huh? Did you say something Jack?"

Jack smirked and began to head towards Bottle Alley. "Just follow me and Stress, Dave."

Stress hung back and started to poke fun at David. "Oh, I think someone's in love..." she joked, laughing gleefully when she noticed that his face had turned bright red.

David, despite his blush, looked seriously at the girl. "My, Stress, I have no idea what you're talking about. I thought the way you show someone you love them is by lying to yourself and them for a bunch of years before you admit to each other you're interested."

Stress' laughed died right away. David was chronicling her exact relationship with Jack; they had been friends for ages before they finally realized that they had fallen for each other. "Not funny, Dave."

**It was so weird to find myself in a strange bunkroom, surrounded by a bunch of people who I've never even seen before. But they all were so nice to me, especially that David.**

Ever since the huge newsies strike had ended in the middle of July, David had grown in more ways than one. His mouth was running more and more these days, and he no longer hid behind the might that was Jack Kelly's shadow. On that afternoon he had proved himself to be even more so outspoken for David had taken it upon himself to find out all he could about the fallen girl. Stress had explained the situation to Mrs. Cook. The elderly owner of the Bottle Alley Home had accepted the situation and allowed the trio to bring the girl to the bunkroom while she busied herself keeping the other girls from interrupting them. She figured it might be easier to learn anything about the girl if there were fewer people questioning her.

For what seemed like the tenth time since she regained consciousness David tried again. "Please, won't you at least tell us your name?"

And just like the ten other times before that David had asked Layna looked down, letting her long dark hair fall into her face. She was too frightened to speak. The last thing she had remembered was being harassed by that Morris character before she had another spell. And she was not about to tell them all that.

Jack took his cowboy hat off of his head and tossed it onto the bunk across from him. "That's it. I can't take this anymore. If she won't give us a name for herself then we'll just have to do it for her. Stress, any ideas?"

She got down from the bunk she was sharing with Jack and approached the girl. She squatted down so that she could see her face. The girl turned away from her and Stress snapped her fingers. "I think I got the perfect name for this one, Jack. How about we call her 'Secrets'?"

Jack clapped his hands once and smiled, leaning back on the bunk in amusement. "That was a great one, Stress. It fits her great, don't you think, Dave?"

David ignored Jack's question, instead looking right at the girl. "Hey," he began softly. She lifted her head and David awarded her a tiny smile. "How's that? Do you mind if we call you 'Secrets'?"

"Layna," she whispered hoarsely. "_Je_ _m'appelle_ Layna."

Jack sat up straight and gestured towards the girl. "What did she say?" he asked, looking over at Stress & David. Neither had heard her, so they both shook their heads.

"_Je_ _m'appelle_ Layna – I mean, my name is Layna," she whispered again, louder this time so that the others could hear her.

Jack nodded and scratched his chin. "Layna is a pretty name and all but it ain't a good newsie name. If you're gonna stick around and be a newsie, you're gone need a better name than that."

David looked across at Jack and shook his head. "What are you talking about, Jack? I think Layna is a fine name."

Stress rolled her eyes and sat down next to Layna. Ignoring it when the girl flinched, she held up her hands. "Stop it, both of you. Jack, hush up and stop telling people what to do. Dave, just hush. Why don't you ask the poor girl what she thinks, alright?"

Jack shrugged his shoulders and David looked away, embarrassed. Layna sat up straighter and, for the first time, a genuine smile came to her face. "I don't know what to say," she began, "but thank you. Does that mean I get to stay here?"

"Sure, if you want. I mean, if you don't got anywhere better to go, cause, to be honest, you don't seem to be too much like a street kid to me."

"I'm alone, I can tell ya. I was let out from the orphanage this week," she said apologetically. Most people thought she was less of a person because she was an orphan. She didn't know what these kids would think of her.

"Don't feel bad, Secrets. My parents died years ago and Jack's only got his pa. We're all family now and it ain't too bad here, if you don't mind selling the papers to earn your money. And it's only a nickel a night to stay, too," Stress answered. "Jack over there said that he'll spot you for your first night, if you want."

Jack smiled and pointed at Stress. "And that would be Stress, who is a lot more generous with my money than she should be," he said, teasing.

Layna looked back and forth between the pair. "_Hou_ _la_, that is the nicest thing anyone's done for me. _Merci_."

David opened his mouth to say something but, upon a look from Stress, fell silent. She continued speaking to the girl. "What is all that fancy talk you keep saying? Don't sound like anything I've ever heard before."

"It's French."

Stress turned her gaze from Layna and stared at David. Jack looked at the curly-haired boy in surprise. "How the hell did you know that, Dave?"

David blushed. "I learned a little bit of it from school."

Layna slowly turned her head so that she was facing David. "_Élégant_, eh?"

"Not too smart," David answered, his earlier blush deepening.

Jack got up and walked over to David. He clapped the boy on his back and smiled broadly. "Don''t listen to him, Secrets. Dave here is one of the smartest guys I've ever met. He even won us that strike a few months back, with my help, of course."

His blush grew even further.

Layna smiled shyly at the boy. "Nice to meet you, David.

"_Mon plaisir_, Secrets."

**I think it might just be alright to be a newsie. I mean, can it be any worse than the orphanage? I don't think so. Especially if they never find out…**

"Secrets?" Stress, followed by a crowd of girls, approached Secrets' new bunk slowly not wanting to interrupt the girl. Secrets, who had been writing in her journal, looked up and grinned. She quickly shut the leather book, leaving the pen in the binding, and hid it under her pillow. "Hello– Stress, right?"

Stress nodded. "Yeah, that would be me. I just thought I'd show you to a couple of the girls that live here in the Home." She waved her hand around to indicate the four other girls that stood in the bunkroom. "These are just a handful of the regulars here. You got Tunes, Dragonfly, Iris, Holiday and Aki." As she introduced each one, a girl nodded and smiled. "Girls, this is the one that Jack saved from that Delancey goon today. You know, the one that David has taken a fancy too," Stress added bluntly.

Secrets looked up and waved at all the girls, trying to hide her embarrassment as Stress' pronouncement. "_Bonsoir _and hello everyone," she whispered. It was an overwhelming sensation to be meeting so many people at once.

"What are you doing?" asked Iris as she tried to see what Secrets had shoved under her pillow. She pointed at the corner end of the journal that was protruding from the edge of the pillow.

"_Rien,_ I was doing nothing," she answered hastily. When she saw that a few of the girls, especially Iris, looked surprised at her reaction, she smiled shyly. "I'm sorry, I guess I'm just a little tired. This is the first time in a while that I've been out of the orphanage and I'm a little wary around new persons."

The girls, all of which had been briefed about the new girl's situation by Stress prior to this meeting, all nodded. "Of course," answered Dragonfly, warmly. Stress nodded her approval.

Tunes took a step back. "Come on, girls. Let's go sell our evening papes," she said. "We can all get to know the new girl better when we get in for the night."

Holiday nodded. "I agree with Tunes. And maybe then Secrets can teach us some of her fancy French language."

Stress shrugged her shoulders apologetically. "I thought it was neat that you could speak like that and I told the other girls."

Secrets grinned. "I'd be happy too. _Jusqu'à_ _plus tard_," she added as the girls laughed and began to head out. Secrets would be joining them tomorrow morning.

When she was once again alone, Secrets sighed in relief. "_Écoutez_ Layna," she scolded herself, "you were able to live in that orphanage on your own for ten years without anyone knowing about your past except for yesterday. There is no need to be defensive here. You'll be fine in the Girl's Home, _d'accord_? Right." Secrets pulled her journal out from under pillow and placed it on her lap. Feeling comfortable, she began to think. She thought about her life at the orphanage. _I wonder if anyone ever noticed that I didn't return last night_. She thought about all the people she had met since leaving the orphanage. And she thought of David. David, with his clear blue eyes, curly brown hair and innocent manner. _David._ She thought about David for awhile, long after all the other girls had returned to the bunkroom and gone to bed.

It wasn't until long after "lights out" that Secrets had taken her journal out from under her pillow and opened it to re-read her passages.

And, like always, there was a message from Kisses.

**_Mon cher,_** **Layna,**

**I'm not going to call you Secrets because you will always be Layna to me. Why are you using that name anyway? And why are you letting these people affect you? It's just me and you, Layna, me and you. Nowhere is there a _Stress _or a _Jack_ or a _David_ in the picture. Nowhere. Especially a David. We made it ten years without needing anyone else, why start now? _Pourquoi_?**

**Kisses**

Secrets placed her journal back under her pillow and stared at the bottom of Holiday's bunk right above her. Though it was hours after the normal time she would fall asleep she was wide awake. There was something wrong with Kisses' passage. It wasn't friendly and supportive like they usually were.

It was possessive.

And a bit scary.

**--**

**Translations**:

_Qui sont vous ? Que voulez-vous _- Who are you? What do you want?  
_Chacun_ _est idiot _– Everyone is crazy  
_Mon dieu_ – My God  
_Je_ _m'appelle _- My name is  
_Hou_ _la _- Wow  
_Merci ­_– Thanks  
_Élégant_ – Smart  
_Mon plaisir _– My pleasure  
_Bonsoir_ – Good evening  
_Rien_ – Nothing  
_Jusqu'à_ _plus tard_ – Until later  
_Écoutez_ – Listen  
_D'accord_ – Right  
_Pourquoi_ - Why


	3. III NICOLAS

**Title**: _Sealed with a Kiss _

**Author**: Stress

**Summary**: Layna Kotliar is a girl with a secret so big that she doesn't even know it herself. Will she be able to trust David with it or will she continue to rely on the only friend she's ever known, a simple leather-bound journal?

**The translations**: As you will see as the fiction begins (and continues), Layna is a French immigrant. Therefore, much of what she says is in French. When the dialogue called for it I tried to include a translation but not always. However, I will include translations at the bottom. Hopefully it will add to the experience of the story.

--

**III.** NICOLAS

Waitin' on the day you walk back in my life  
Like a newborn child, you made me smile…

**14 August 1899**

**_Mon journal_,**

**_Amis_, I have friends. And they were all so very sweet to me. A group of the girls here let me accompany them when they sold their _journaux_ and I found it was _le fait de libérer très_** **to earn money for myself…**

"So, Secrets, how do you like being a newsie so far?" asked Stress. She held the door to the Bottle Alley Home open, and watched as the three other girls entered. Each, including Stress, retrieved a nickel from their pockets and placed it on Mrs. Cook's desk before signing in at the ledger. The elderly matron smiled at each of the girls before the group embarked up the stairs, heading towards the bunkroom.

Once inside, Secrets answered Stress with a shy smile. "_C'était_ _bon_, Stress. I had a great time with you girls, peddling the newspapers. But, I couldn't help but worry about you – are you sure that Jack didn't mind you being with me?"

Stress's cheeks colored when she heard all the two other girls laughing at Secrets' comment. It was not an off-handed one; Secrets had spent the entire morning listening to Gypsy and Iris poke fun at Jack's parting words to Stress at the distribution center. "Have fun working without me, Stress," he had said, pouring faux emotion behind his chocolate brown eyes. The smirk he wore when he concluded his goodbye indicated that he was less than serious. "Cause you know that I won't."

Tunes, who had been sitting on her bunk, reading one of the newspapers, looked up at their entry. "Hey, girls. What's so funny?"

Before anyone could answer, Stress cut in. "You know, Secrets, maybe I should be asking you the same thing about Dave," she threw back, glaring over her head to stare at Gip and Iris. Both girls paled under the glare and stopped laughing – but not for long. They had a new target to antagonize.

"Yeah, Secrets," added Iris, now adopting a smirk, near identical to the one Spot Conlon of Brooklyn, usually wore. "Did you see the look on David's face when we stole you to come and sell with us?

It was Secrets' turn to blush; at Iris' words, she felt her face heat up and she lowered her head in order to hide behind her long black hair. "_Oh, non_, you're just saying that," she murmured. She walked ahead of the others and sank down on her bunk.

Gip's dark blue eyes seemed to dance in amusement. "I don't know how you didn't notice it, Secrets, but the boy's got it for you and bad," she said, her slight Southern accent slipping in and out of her speech.

Tunes, by now, seemed to have gotten the gist of just what the other girls were discussing. She got up from her bunk and walked down to the end where Secrets was sitting. Joining the quiet girl on the bed, she smiled. "Don't listen to them. Whenever one of the boys gets it in their head that they like a girl, these jokers make it their point to tease the poor girl. That's just how they get their kicks," she added as she rested her hand on Secrets' shoulder. The gesture was meant as a show of support.

As soon as she felt Tunes' touch, Secrets jerked back and covered her head with her hands. The pain was starting again. The memories were coming back.

_"No," she yelled out as she merged from her hiding spot. She needed to be able to save the police officer from Eddie's knife even if she couldn't save her parents. Especially because she couldn't save her parents._

_Eddie missed his target. Surprised by her sudden appearance, he had turned his head to see the young girl coming out from her hiding place iwthin the alley. "There you are, precious," he said, and held his hand out for her. Unfortunately for him, he extended the hand that still held the knife._

_In the precious few seconds that Eddie was facing her instead of his new adversary, the police officer drew his billy club from his belt and knocked him over the head._

_He slumped to the dirt, immediately unconscious, as was the cop's goal. Layna continued to run forward, and she ran directly into the arms of the police officer. If there was one piece of advice that Layna remembered from her late parents, it was that a policeman could always help you when you're in trouble._

_Once the police officer had scooped her up, Layna began to sob. " _Je suis désolé. _I'm so sorry," she wailed, holding on tight to the dark-haired officer._

_The police officer carried her to a nearby street lamp and set her down. She refused to loosen her grip on his arms. "Shhh, there, child. What's the matter?" he asked, soothingly._

_Layna sniffled and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her faded blue dress. She pulled back far enough so that she could look up into his face. He seemed a lot more trustworthy than the other man. "_Il a tué la Maman et le Père_," she rushed out and began to hiccup between fresh sobs._

_The cop patted her on the head. "I'm sorry, dear, but I can't understand that. Can you tell me that in English, maybe?"_

_She nodded and tried to control her breathing. When she was able to, she began to tell her story again – this time in English. "I was waiting for Papa to come out of the house and that man," she said, and pointed fearfully towards the unconscious criminal, "tried to drag me away. Papa and Mama came out from the house and he hurt them." And, with that, the sobs began again._

_The police officer drew a sharp breath. He was not expecting such an answer from the small child. "What's your name?"_

_"La-La—Layna," she finally managed to choke out._

_"Well, Layna. Do you know where your parents are, now?"_

_"_ _Ciel."_

_The police officer rubbed her back while flagging down an approaching colleague, out on his nightly patrol with the paddy wagon. "Hey Johnson," he called, waving his arms in a signal to stop, "that man over there just tried to stab me and I hear that he may have killed this little girl's parents. I'd appreciate it if you would pick him up and than meet me at- where do you live, Layna?" he asked her._

_"Me and Mama and Papa live at the big building on the corner of 56th street," she whispered. The tears had stopped coming now. Even for one so young, she was beyond grief at that moment._

_He smiled sadly down at the top of her head. "Did you hear that, Johnson? Meet me at the apartment building on the corner of 56th street. I'd recommend bringing help in case we do find something there."_

_Officer Johnson nodded and led his horse over to where Eddie lay._

_The first police officer turned back to face Layna. "Layna, my name is Officer Murphy. Right now, we're going to go to your house and see what happened to your parents. Is that alright?"_

_Layna trembled slightly, but still nodded. "Yes sir, Officer Murphy." _

"Secrets? Are you okay?" Tunes cried out as she shook her gently.

Secrets reluctantly opened her eyes and saw the worried expressions on the faces of Stress, Gip, and Iris. "What happened?" she whispered as her headache began to fade. Her hands, she saw, where resting at her side. She picked up her right hand and rubbed that eye. There seemed to be a faint throbbing on that side of her head.

"You fa-" began Tunes. But, before she could finish the word, Iris ran up behind her and covered her mouth with her hand.

"You must have just fallen asleep right quick, Secrets. You looked tired," Iris improvised. For some reason, she didn't want to make a big deal out of Secrets' fainting. At least, not now.

"Oh, well in that case, I think I better go outside and get a bit of fresh air." Secrets fumbled around the head of her bunk for a moment before her hand met with something underneath her pillow. She shoved it in her bag before any of the girls could see what it was. "_Excusez-moi_," she said and slipped off of the bunk, quietly making her way past the others before exiting the bunkroom.

"I wonder what that was about?" asked Gip out loud to no one in particular. But that was alright. None of the other girls had anything to say in response.

- - -

That same day, in the Newsboys' Lodging House on Duane Street, David Jacobs sat with Jack, Skittery and Race in the boys' bunkroom. He rubbed the top of his curly-haired head and let out a heavy breathe. "Hey, Jack? How exactly did you know that Stress was the one for you?" he asked, dropping his hand and pulling his legs up. He hugged them against his chest as he thought of Secrets. There was just _something_ about the French girl. He couldn't get her blue eyes and demure smile out of his mind.

Ignoring Skittery's smirk and Racetrack's snickers, Jack tried his best to answer David's question. "It's just something you feel in here," he replied, tapping himself on the chest.

David nodded once and faced Skittery. Maybe the resident pessimist would be able to shed some light on this whole "love" situation. If there was anyone in the lodging house who would be able to talk him out of his new feelings, it would be Skitts. "What about you, Skittery? Was it the same for you and Tunes?"

Skittery scowled. David was right; he wasn't the kind of guy who liked to talk about his feelings with the other boys.

Race playfully slapped Skittery on the face. "Hey, Skitts. Can't you see the boy is looking for some advice? Help him out."

"I don't see you talking about your feelings for good old Moneybags, do I?" Skittery acknowledged, skillfully evading the subject.

"True, true," Race said and he laughed. When he was done, he brought the edge of a stolen cigar to his lips. "Davey, listen to Jack. He does know what he's talking about when it comes to matters of the heart, eh, Cowboy?"

Jack continued to ignore the comments from the other two boys. He rested his hand on David's shoulder. The younger boy looked up, his blue eyes appearing doubtful. "Dave, let me ask you a question. Do you think that you're getting some feeling for Secrets?" Jack swallowed a smirk when he saw that David turned bright red, but did not respond. "You do know that she's only been here for one day, eh, Dave?"

David, his blush continuing to deepen, nodded. "I don't know what it is Jack, but there is something special about her. I just- I just can't get her out of my mind, you know."

Jack patted David on the back. "I know, Dave, I know."

- - -

That night, after all the other girls of the lodging house had gone to bed, Secrets pulled out her journal. She had not had the chance to write in her worn book when she went for a breath of air earlier. Then, after she returned to the bunkroom, there were too many girls about for her to chance bringing the book out without any of them asking questions. It was only now, when she was the last awake, that she dared to write down her thoughts.

But, of course, there was already a message waiting for her.

**_Mon cher, _Layna,**

**So, _amis_ are they? How many times have I told you that _we_ don't need any friends? Don't you remember what happens to friends? Friends are just enemies with an inside scoop, Layna. Remember what happened to Nicolas?**

Secrets put down the journal for a moment and stared ahead, her eyes fixated on the flickering flame of the candle she was reading by. She did remember.

_Twelve-year-old Layna ran up to the orphanage, surprised to see a policeman's horse tethered in front of the building. "_Je me demande qu'est-ce qui continue_?" she murmured before entering the orphanage and heading through the lobby, towards the stairs that led to the girls' bunkroom._

_"Miss Layna," called Madame Pearson, "would you come here please?"_

_Layna stopped and turned towards the headmistress' office. "_Oui_, Madame Pearson, of course."_

_Upon stepping inside the office, Layna found herself facing Officer Murphy. "Hello, Officer – I mean, Sergeant Murphy. Pleasure seeing you on this side of the City." She was tickled to see her old friend; she hadn't seen him in over a year since he got promoted to sergeant and was given an office._

_"How are you, dear child? I'm here on dismal business, I'm afraid." Sergeant Murphy took off his hat and bent down to look in Layna's eyes. "I hear you were friends with a Nicolas Malloy. Is that true?"_

_Layna smiled as she nodded. Nicolas was the only _real _friend she had – after Kisses, of course. He was the only one who knew about her fainting spells and, to her glee, didn't look down on her because of them. "Yes, Sergeant Murphy. I can definitely say that I'm friends with Nicolas."_

_Sergeant Murphy took Layna's hand in his own and sighed. His brown eyes were saddened and, in the five years that passes since they fist met, his dark hair had become sprinkled with grey. The job was certainly taking a toll on the cop. "We found Nicolas today," he said, and he sounded a lot older than he looked._

_Layna looked up at the older gentleman and appeared confused. "Was he lost? I only talked to him yesterday afternoon, but I didn't know that he went missing after that."_

_Sergeant Murphy sighed again and shared a look with Madame Pearson over Layna's head. "What I mean, Layna, is that we found your friend on a side street, two blocks away from this orphanage, this morning. Someone had administered a fatal stab to his chest."_

_Layna backed away from the police officer directly into the arms of Madame Pearson. "_Non, cela ne peut pas être. Nicolas ne peut pas être mort._"_ _In her shock, as was her normal reaction, her first instinct was to revert back to French._

_Madame Pearson, completely accustomed to Layna's French outbursts, tried her best to calm the girl. "I'm sorry, Layna, but Sergeant Murphy is right. Nicolas left last night and failed to return before curfew. I was on my way to inform the police when Sergeant Murphy stopped by and asked if I had any missing children from the orphanage. The officer who found your friend assumed he might be one of my boys since it was so close to the orphanage and I identified him. They say that Nicolas was killed sometime between last night and this morning. I wanted you to know since the two of you were so close."_

Were. _The word echoed in Layna's mind as she turned away from Madame Pearson. She couldn't listen to the adults any more so she turned and ran from the office. _

_"_ _Il_ _est parti. My only friend is gone," she sobbed into her pillow much later that night. Hastily wiping her tears before fresh ones began to form, Layna removed her journal from underneath her pillow. Maybe if she could write her feelings down, she would feel better. Or, if she was lucky, maybe there would be advice from Kisses. She would know what to do._

**Mon cher, _Layna,_**

**_It's alright, _amour_. I know how much losing Nicolas must hurt you but you'll pull through. You have me, after all. And I'll always be here for you. _Toujours**

_**Kisses**_

_Kisses was_ _right. She always was. Shaking her head, removing the memory of Nicolas from it, Layna replaced her journal and went to sleep._

_Nicolas_. She hadn't thought about him since the day he had been found murdered. Yet, now that Kisses had written his name in the journal, the memories all came rushing back. _Nicolas._

Secrets let out the breath she didn't even know she was holding as she pictured the face of her mischievous childhood pal. "They never did find out who murdered Nick," she murmured, all caught up in her past.

As she sat, the bunkroom bathed in the moonlight, Secrets jumped when a stray breeze came through the open window and blew out the candle's flame. She pulled out a match from the night table next to her bunk and relit the candle on her nightstand. With the light glowing brightly, Secrets returned her eyes to the journal page and finished the entry.

**Remember what happened to Nicolas? I thought you would. And what would you do if that happened to any of your new friends? I wonder.**

**Kisses**

**--**

**Translations**:

_Amis_ – Friends  
_Journaux_ – Newspapers  
_Le fait de libérer très_ – Very liberating  
_C'était_ _bon_ – It was good  
_Oh, non_ – Oh, no  
_Je_ _suis désolé _– I'm sorry _  
Il a tué la Maman et le Père_ - He killed Mama and Papa  
_Ciel_ – Heaven  
_Excusez-moi_ – Excuse me  
_Je_ _me demande qu'est-ce qui continue_ - I wonder what's going on  
_Non, cela ne peut pas être. Nicolas ne peut pas être mort._ - No, that can't be. Nicolas can't be dead.  
_Il_ _est parti _– He is gone  
_Amour _- Love  
_Toujours_ - Always


	4. IV DAVID

**Title**: _Sealed with a Kiss _

**Author**: Stress

**Summary**: Layna Kotliar is a girl with a secret so big that she doesn't even know it herself. Will she be able to trust David with it or will she continue to rely on the only friend she's ever known, a simple leather-bound journal?

**The translations**: As you will see as the fiction begins (and continues), Layna is a French immigrant. Therefore, much of what she says is in French. When the dialogue called for it I tried to include a translation but not always. However, I will include translations at the bottom. Hopefully it will add to the experience of the story. And, I should probably add, I know maybe three words of French. I get all of my French from a translation site. I only _wish_ I was bilingual.

--

**IV. **DAVID

_Then stole my heart away  
We may be outta touch, but never out of time…_

**16 August 1899**

**_Mon journal_, **

**_Amour_.** **I wonder if I ever knew it before. I'm sure my parents loved me - _Reste_ _de Dieu leurs âmes_ – just as I am sure that the feelings I had for Sergeant Murphy were based on infatuation. But love? _Vrai_ _amour_? I doubt I knew it – until now. Until I met David…**

"Secrets? Are you almost ready to get up?" Holiday leaned over the edge of her bunk, pulling her blouse over her undershirt, and looked at the girl slumbering on the bunk below. If the past few days were any indication, the other girls knew that Secrets had to be one of the first girls up in order to be ready in time to sell – but they could never get her up in time. As it was, more than half the girls had already headed out to the distribution center, yet Secrets did nothing but let out a snore before turning over, her long black covering her face. The girl showed no signs of waking from her sleep.

"Hey, Hol, I don't think she's getting up anytime soon," called Rae, one bunk over from Holiday, as she braided her long blonde hair into a single plait.

Aki, in the bunk directly below Rae, climbed out from beneath her covers. She had slept in her clothes from the day before and only needed to put her shoes on to be ready to sell. Such a technique, she reasoned, let her sleep a little extra in the morning. "Don't worry, girls. I'll wake her up," she offered and leaned over so that she could reach Secrets. She shook her gently. "Secrets, you've gotta get up. Remember? You made us promise to wake you first."

Secrets stirred slowly, barely opening one of her blue eyes. "_Hein?_ What's going on?" she mumbled, only half awake, as she watched Aki's attempt to wake her up. It might have struck her as humorous if the girl's touch wasn't accompanied by a sharp pain that shot through her head nor the blackness that enveloped her.

_The seven-year-old Layna led Officer Murphy up the block where her apartment building was located. She didn't even have to announce it when they arrived; he could tell for himself._

_"What is going on here?" Officer Murphy muttered as he looked at the crowd that was gathering in the streets. He drew out his police whistle and gave it a blow, though the shrill sound did nothing to disperse the crowd. He pocketed his whistle once more and elbowed his way into the middle of group. When he saw the two bodies, two bodies that lay in a large pool of their spilt blood, he started to bark orders. "That's it people, go back to your homes. There is nothing to see here," he announced, trying to block the grisly sight from their view._

_The crowd begrudgingly broke up, each person mumbling about the police always having to ruin all of their fun. Officer Murphy ignored their remarks and turned to back to Layna. The little girl was shaking though she couldn't see her parents. He was still blocking them. "Now, child, I really don't want you to see this, but..." he stepped aside, revealing the bodies laying in the road, "are these two people your parents?"_

_Layna waited until Officer Murphy had stepped aside before taking a look at the two murder victims. "Papa!" she yelled as she weaved passed the police officer and threw herself on the man._

_Officer Murphy cursed under his breath and rushed forward. "Layna, no!" He pulled the child from the dead man's hold and held tight. "He's gone, child."_

_Layna kicked and struggled in his arms. "_Non, il est juste là. _Let me see Papa," she cried as her tiny fists beat upon the police officer's much larger arms._

_"I'm sorry, Layna. I'm sorry...sorry...sorry..."_

"Sorry, I'm sorry..." Secrets murmured as she fought against the thin sheet that covered her in her bunk. Aki, who had kept her hand on Secrets arm throughout the spell in fear of endangering the girl, pulled it back once Secrets began to move about.

The five girls left in the lodging house that morning – the only five girls who witnessed Secrets' latest fit – stared at her, warily, as she opened her eyes and sat up in her bunk. "_Mon Dieu_, what just happened?" Secrets asked groggily, blissfully unaware of the apprehensive looks on their faces.

"Are you alright, Secrets?" Stress tentatively asked. She had been at the mirror, pulling her curls back, when Secrets entered her latest spell. When the entire bunkroom had gone quiet, Stress had walked over to see what was going on. It was Iris, with a panicked expression on her face, who indicated for Stress to keep quiet. No one spoke until Secrets came back to.

"_Oui_, I believe so." Secrets pulled herself up and rubbed her forehead. The five girls just continued to stare at her. Instead of acknowledging their concern, she glanced around and saw that all of the other girls had already left for the distribution center. "_Fichu_, just how late is it?"

Holiday opened her mouth to tell Secrets that she had blacked out for some time when she saw Iris shaking her head. She understood and smiled at Secrets. "Don't worry about it, Secrets. Just put some clothes on and we'll all go down to the DC together." The other girls nodded their agreement. For some reason they didn't want to discuss Secrets' spells either.

Once Secrets was dressed appropriately enough to sell newspapers for the day, the six girls ran down to the distribution center, aware of exactly how late they were. When they arrived there, they were glad to see that there were still papers to be bought. Aki, Rae and Iris bought their papers and took off to sell together, while Holiday went off in search of Bumlets. This, of course, left Stress and Secrets alone.

"So, Secrets, you want to sell with me?" Stress asked after she and Secrets bought a few papers apiece. For the last two days, Stress, Secrets, David and Jack had strolled around Manhattan selling their papers together. But, due to Secrets' state that morning, and the lateness that followed, Jack and David had obviously left the distribution center already. Before Secrets could respond to Stress' invitation, the two girls heard someone's voice call out to them.

"Stress, Secrets, over here."

Waiting just outside the gate were Jack and David. Jack nudged David in the ribs slyly and winked at Secrets before walking over to Stress and draping his arm over her shoulder. She smiled up at him and just handed her papers to him. Adopting a wounded expression, he removed his arm from her shoulder, took the papers and added them to his stack. Then, his expression switching to one of mischief, he placed his arm back around her.

Stress tried not to laugh and just poked him in his side. "Morning, Jack. I would have thought that the two of you left without us already."

"No," Jack answered, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement, "David wouldn't let me." Stress opened her mouth in an expression of faux shock before slapping Jack's arm playfully. Secrets and David just stood by the side, watching the humorous antics of the couple. "I'm just kidding, Stress. You know I'd never sell without you," he apologized and placed a quick peck on her cheek. Then, remembering that they had an audience, he turned to face David and Secrets. "Me and Stress are going to have some quality selling time together – alone. I guess that means the two of you are going to have sell together today." And, with a final wink in David's direction, Jack led her in the opposite direction.

"So..." David began, using the one hand not holding a stack of papers to run his hand through his curly brown hair. He looked incredibly nervous, as well as looking as if he wanted to run after Jack and smack him over the head for deserting him like that.

Secrets just grinned sheepishly, not knowing what to say at all. She had never expected Stress to abandon her like that, either.

"Why don't we just go and sell, eh?" David said simply. He grinned when he saw that she nodded. _Maybe this won't be so bad, after all_.

And sell they did. The two of them walked over to the mid-morning boxing fight and sold out of their papers in a little over an hour. After Secrets thanked the gentleman who paid for her last paper, David crossed his fingers behind his back. "Would you like to have lunch at Tibby's with me? My treat," he added when he noticed her slight hesitation.

_What would you do if that happened to any of your new friends?_ The words from Kisses' journal entry from the night before flashed through Secrets' mind. "That would be nice," she responded with a shy smile, ignoring the unsaid threat hidden within the words. _I'm not going to let anything happen to _any _of my new friends_, she promised.

Once the two of them were inside the restaurant and their orders were placed, David began to shake nervously. Secrets noticed his agitated movements and looked at him questioningly.

When he saw that Secrets' eyes were focused on his bouncing knee and tapping fingers, he abruptly stopped. He covered his hand with the other and looked embarrassed. "Secrets, there – uh, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Yes, David?" she answered, her voice an octave higher than normal. His nerves were catching.

"Would you care to ..." David lifted his hand nonchalantly, covering his mouth as he spoke. The second half of his sentence was mumbled, his ears turning red.

"Care to what?" Secrets prompted, turning her head slightly so she could get a better look at him. Her heart rate sped up significantly and she felt her smile widening. _David looks quite adorable when we is embarrassed. _

He put his hand down on his lap so that any words he would manage to eventually get out wouldn't be all garbled. He lifted his head up so that he was looked straight at her, and took a deep breath. "Would you let me call on you sometime?" His voice was a lot shyer than it had been but, at least, she understood what he said.

She just wasn't so sure she understood what he meant. She sat in silence for a moment, not sure what to say as a response.

David obviously thought that her silence meant "no". He began to ramble his apologies. "I'm sorry, Secrets. I don't know what I was thinking. I mean, we just met a few days ago and, besides, why would you want any one like-"

Secrets tried to wipe the smile from her face; she didn't want him to think she was laughing at him. "_Attendre_," she said, and she held up one of her hands. David, who had turned his head away while he was apologizing, looked back when he heard the French. "I'm just not sure what you mean, 'call on you'? Does that mean you want to see me again?"

His face become even redder as he nodded before looking away again. "Yes, but I understa-"

"David." He stopped and looked back at her. "I'd really like that."

She was surprised to see that, while still blushing from embarrassment, his blue eyes lit up and he smiled back at her. His expression seemed to illustrate that he wasn't sure if he heard her right. "_Vraiment_?" he asked, his accent stiff, his pronunciation a bit off. But it made her feel happy when he spoke to her in French.

"_Vraiment_."

**And, yes, I'm aware that I've only known him for a few days. But it just seems _si_ _juste_. We spent that evening, hand in hand, walking across the City. He even brought me to a dance hall where I met Jack's friend, Medda – a _putain_, but _agréable_. We spent this morning selling down at the Harbor, and he promised he'll take me over the Brooklyn Bridge sometime. It was such fun. David is just _stupéfiant._ I believe it might just be _vrai_ _amour_.**

As Secrets re-read her earlier journal entry, debating on whether or not she should add more details about the fabulous two days she had, she giggled girlishly to herself. If this was love, she never wanted to lose it.

"_Ce_ _qui est cela_?" she murmured as she realized that the last set of words – _vrai_ _amour -_ in her journal were crossed out with big bold strokes. With quaking fingers, Secrets turned the page of her journal. There was only one person, besides her, who had access to her journal. She was quite anxious to read the message that Kisses must have left her.

And there it was. Kisses' message.

**_Mon cher_, Layna,**

**_Amour_?** **You are just a child. You have no idea as to what love is. This boy, this David, he just wants to use you. Just wants to get inside your head, get inside your heart and then drop you. You don't know what you are getting yourself into, Layna. And why didn't you write yesterday? You _ayez_ _à _write everyday.**

**Kisses**

**--**

**Translations**:

_Amour_ – Love  
_Reste_ _de Dieu leurs âmes _– God rest their souls  
_Vrai_ _amour_ – True love  
_Hein _– Huh  
_Non, il est juste là_ – No, he's right there  
_Fichu_ – Damn  
_Attendre_ – Wait  
_Vraiment_ – Really  
_Putain_ – Floozy  
_Agréable_ – Nice  
_Stupéfiant_ – Amazing  
_Ce_ _qui est cela_ – What's this  
_Ayez_ _à_ – Have to


	5. V STRESS

**Title**: _Sealed with a Kiss _

**Author**: Stress

**Summary**: Layna Kotliar is a girl with a secret so big that she doesn't even know it herself. Will she be able to trust David with it or will she continue to rely on the only friend she's ever known, a simple leather-bound journal?

**The translations**: As you will see as the fiction begins (and continues), Layna is a French immigrant. Therefore, much of what she says is in French. When the dialogue called for it I tried to include a translation but not always. However, I will include translations at the bottom. Hopefully it will add to the experience of the story.

--

**V. **STRESS

Come back to me boy…

**19 August 1899**

**_Mon journal_,**

**_Mon journal précieux_.** **_Au moins je vous ai toujours._ I just don't know anymore. Everything seemed to be going well with David – that is, up until yesterday afternoon. I should have known something was wrong. David and I were out with Stress and Jack and they two of them were fighting with each other. Jack, it seemed, had been bothering her all morning about something…**

"Jack, will you just give it a rest already. I told you more than once already – I'm not going." Stress sighed in annoyance and hurried ahead so that she was a few feet in front of him.

"But Stress," he argued, quickening his pace so that he was beside her, "you promised me that we'd go down to Irving Hall and visit Medda tonight. I already told Blink and them that we'd see them later."

She sighed and refused to look at him. Listening to him remind her constantly of a vague promise was beginning to wear on her patience. "We were just there a couple days ago, Jack. And besides, you know how much I hate pink."

He ignored the comment about Medda's favorite color and continued, instead, to pester her. "C'mon, Stress. All I'm asking is that you come down there with me to spend some time with the other fellows. Don't you want to see our pals? And, you did say you would go."

"And, you know what? I changed my mind, Jack. God, what's with all the nagging today? I swear, its times like these when I wish that I didn't stop seeing Dave. He never nagged me." Stress nonchalantly tightened the clip that kept her long brown curls back before increasing her step even more so. It was a cheap shot, and meant to be so – Jack caught onto her intent and he scowled briefly before replying.

"Stress, that ain't fair," he said as he broke into a jog to catch up with her. Turning around in order to face Secrets and David, he called back to them. "We're going to go on ahead. We'll meet you over at Tibby's when we're done selling."

"See you," answered David with an embarrassed wave. His cheeks had colored when Stress brought him into the argument and he was glad that the pair was going on to finish their argument without him present. But, when he turned to Secrets to make light of the tense situation, he was surprised that she was looking at him strangely. "What?" he asked, a little self-conscious. Her stare was making him nervous.

"David, what did she mean by that?" Secrets asked, her lips formed into a pout.

He looked confused. "By what?"

"She said that she's sorry that she stopped seeing you. What did she mean?"

"Oh," he said. That was all he offered. If it were possible, his face went even redder. He began to walk forward, hoping that she would drop the subject.

She didn't. Instead of following him, she remained standing where she was. "Were the two of you together at some point, David?"

He turned around and saw that she hadn't moved. He paused. "Well…"

"_Dites-moi_," she ordered. Whether or not David could translate her statement, he looked surprised at the tone she had adopted. It was harsh and seemed unnatural coming from the petite girl.

David didn't answer her right away. He obviously was thinking about his answer and how he should phrase it. With a sigh, he met her stare. "Yes, Secrets, I went out with Stress a few times."

She was crushed. "_Que?_ _Me charriez-vous? Elle?_" Secrets first reaction was to yell out in French. She took a deep breath and translated. "What? Are you kidding me? Her?" she repeated, in English this time. For some reason, she had assumed that _she_ was the first girl that David had taken out. But Stress? She didn't seem to match him at all. He was so sweet and kind; she was loud and nosy. And it was her that had broken it off – what if he still had feelings for her?

David began to feel a little guilty that he hadn't told Secrets about Stress earlier. "It wasn't like that, Secrets. When I first met her, she seemed exciting. She wasn't with Jack yet and he was courting my sister, Sarah. It didn't last longer than a week," he said, trying to explain. Secrets just turned away from him. He approached her and placed his hand gently on her shoulder. "Secrets, I'm sorry," he added.

But Secrets, whose back had been turned to David, hadn't been expecting his touch. Almost at once, she grew rigid underneath his hand.

_"I'm sorry, Layna, I'm sorry." The officer kept repeating the phrase, soothingly, as he gently guided Layna away from the scene. "Johnson," he called as he watched his comrade ride up to apartment building, "there are two bodies over there. Quite a mess to clean up, son. Get some help, would you?"_

_Officer Johnson, not that much younger than his fellow officer, looked over at him in surprise. "You mean, I have to clean the mess up, Murphy?"_

_Officer Murphy nodded. "Yes. I have more important matters to tend to right now," he said, bluntly, as he gestured to the wide-eyed little girl who stood, clinging to his knees._

_Officer Johnson looked at Layna and smiled gently. "I'm sorry, child. But mind Officer Murphy, he's a kind man." He tipped his policeman's hat in her direction and rode towards the end of the street where another crowd was gathering._

_"Officer Murphy?" she whispered into his pants leg._

_"Yes, Layna?"_

_"What's gonna happen to me?" Her tiny frame began to tremble as realization hit her seven-year-old brain. Without a mother or father to take care of her, she was _alone.

_"Don't you worry, child. I know the perfect place for you. And I'm sure you'll love Madame Pearson."_

"Secrets?" David asked, his hand frozen to her shoulder. He was afraid to do anything. She had gone extremely tense once he made contact and it had now been over a minute since he apologized. She hadn't responded yet. He was beginning to get worried.

And then, all at once, her body relaxed. "Yes, David?" She turned around, wiping her blue eyes taking on a slight daze. While he looked worried, she looked confused.

David lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry, Secrets. I should have told you about Stress earlier," he said as he pushed a patch of dirt around with his tip of his faded brown shoe, avoiding her dazed expression. _She must be really mad_. "I was afraid that you would react just like this, and it only lasted about a week, so…"

Secrets' frown slowly turned upwards as she shrugged away any negative thoughts. _That's all? _Seulement une semaine? _And _she _broke it off with him. That's not as bad as I thought_. She nodded and extended her hand to him. "That's alright, David. _Je_ _comprends_. I know I have no reasons to be jealous of her."

"Exactly," David agreed with a smile as he reached out and took her hand. His smile widened.

**I accepted David's reasons. Why should he have to tell me everything about his life? And so soon? I had to keep reminding myself that we only just met. _Nous_ _devons prendre des choses lentes._ But I couldn't accept it when he spent all this morning with her instead of me...**

"Oh, Dave," laughed Stress as she clutched David's arm and led him away, leaving behind both Jack and Secrets, each fuming at her obvious display of affection towards the boy.

"I'm glad you liked my joke, Stress," David replied as he let himself be led by her. Neither Jack nor Secrets missed the fact that his face was colored at her touch and attention.

"Stress, are you ready to sell with _me _now?" asked Jack, pointedly, as he crossed his chest and paused. He felt as if he were left out of the conversation – a feeling he didn't like at all. He was still a little sore at Stress' remark from the day before and, as much as he didn't want to admit it, he was hurt at the way Stress said she would rather date David than him. Even if she had only said it in the heat of their fight yesterday morning, it seemed like she was making good on her threat.

She was obviously still a little mad at him. "Hey, Cowboy, hold your horses. Can't you see that I'm talking to Dave here?" Okay, a lot mad. The truth was that she was only doing it in order to make Jack jealous. She was angry at the way that he implied that she was too stubborn and fickle. Even after they had made up yesterday, she had spent that night thinking it over and decided that she would show Jack how important she was by ignoring him and spending the day with David. It was working.

Unfortunately, though, it was working on Secrets too – except she didn't have the nerve to say anything to them. But it didn't stop her from thinking to herself. _I can't believe she's _possession sur a _David like that when Jack is right behind her. Est elle essayant de l'emmener de moi?_ Secrets' blue eyes darted over to the happy expression on David's face. _And he's happy to her do so. I thought that we had that all figured out yesterday._ Je devine non, she noted when she saw Stress lean over and give David a quick kiss on the cheek. It felt like her heart plummeted straight down to her brown shoes. She had the sudden urge to slap Stress but found she couldn't move. The action, however, was just what Jack needed to break up the pair.

Jack walked forward and grabbed Stress by the arm. Surprised, she jumped away from David and tried to wiggle out of his grip. He didn't let go. "That's it, me and you are going off to sell by ourselves," he announced and tried to get her to walk forward.

Secrets cheered inwardly at Jack's possessiveness. The boy was doing what she, herself, wished she could have done. Maybe now she could spend some time alone with David.

But, before he had gotten Stress to walk more than two steps, she turned and stepped on his foot. Jack hadn't been expected her to do that and he slackened his hold on her arm. She immediately pulled it back and placed both hands on her hips. "Francis Sullivan," she said and Secrets wondered who she was addressing. The furious expression on Jack's face indicated that it was him – and that such a name was something that no one else was supposed to hear. She paid no attention to him and continued to holler in his face. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

Jack regained some of his composure and turned his fury and embarrassment into self-righteousness. He mimicked her stance, but instead of placing his hands on his hips, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I think that I was just stopping my girl from flirting with my best friend, Jessa Rhian," he countered, a triumphant look coming to his brown eyes. If she wanted to fling his Christian name at him, she would get hers right back.

She was surprised that he would dare to do so and it took her a minute before she could speak. She just stared at him for a moment, the interested eyes of Secrets and David doing nothing to quell her rising temper. "I was doing no such thing," she said finally, defending herself.

Jack snorted and Stress' flushed angrily at the sound. "Yeah, you were. Ain't that right, Secrets?" Jack asked, turning to her for help.

Secrets just shrugged her shoulders, not trusting herself to say anything at the moment. She was planning on waiting until Jack and Stress were out of ear-shot before she brought up the matter to David.

Jack rolled his eyes. Secrets had been no help to him and David just stood there, staring down at his shoes. "Stress, I think you better come with me. We really need to talk."

But Stress just took her stack of papers and threw them at his feet. "I don't think so, Cowboy," she replied before turning and stalking off. No one could say she didn't have a flair for drama when she was upset.

Jack stared as she walked away, silent for a moment. Then, without warning, he muttered a single word: "Girls", before walking away in the opposite direction. Stress' papers were left forgotten, lying in the middle of the sidewalk.

"David?"

"Secrets, no. Not now," David said simply before shaking his head and continuing on down the street. He couldn't afford to toss aside his papers. After all, he had a family that was expecting this money. Just because Stress and Jack let their squabble ruin their newspaper selling, that didn't mean the Jacobs' were going to go hungry.

Secrets begrudgingly nodded her head and followed after David. _No?_ _Just _what _is he saying 'no' too?_

**_Je_** **_savais qu'il était trop bon pour être vrai_.**

Secrets carefully drew the period after the "_i_" and laid down her pen, feeling much better now that she had her anxieties written out on paper. She re-read the last sentence and knew she was much more upset than she earlier realized. She finished the last bit of the entry entirely in French; as it was, she only turned to her native tongue when she couldn't put forth the energy to focus on her adopted language of English.

"Secrets?" She heard the voice call out from the other end of the bunkroom. Hastily shoving her journal back under her pillow, she stuck her outside of the bunk. "Yes?"

It was Stress. Her tan face was somewhat wan and her green eyes seemed clouded over in preoccupation. If she still wasn't so upset over the morning's occurrences she might have felt bad for the girl. Stress tentatively took a step forward. "Are you alright, Secrets? You seemed a little angry this morning while we were selling the papers."

Secrets had to fight the slight sneer that wanted to come to her face. _So she noticed, eh? _ "I'm perfectly fine, Stress. And, _mon_ _ami_, I believe that you were the one that seemed angry," she added, a bit more testily than she meant to.

Stress flinched at her tone of voice. "Are you sure?" she asked, narrowing her gaze. Secrets did not like the look she was receiving; she felt as if she were under scrutiny.

"I said I was fine, didn't I? _Mon dieu_, why don't you just leave me alone?" Secrets reached under her pillow and grabbed her journal before turning her blue eyes to Stress. She gave her a momentary glare before haughtily turning away. She rose from her bunk and the hurried from the bunkroom, all without another word.

Stress stood at the foot of Secrets' bunk, her cheeks flaming at Secrets' sudden outburst. "What the hell did I do?" she asked out loud. None of the other girls in the bunkroom had any answer for her. She shrugged her shoulders and headed towards the door. "Well, I guess I better go find Miss Frenchy and find out what that was all about."

- - -

Much later that night, Secrets found herself entering the Bottle Alley Home just before Mrs. Cook locked the doors for the night. She dragged her feet up the steps, going as slowly as she could so as not to bother her pounding head. When she finally entered the bunkroom, she ignored the questioning looks from the girls who hadn't fallen asleep yet. She cradled her head with one arm while clutching her worn journal protectively under the other as she sat down upon her bunk. From above her, she heard Holiday snore and winced. Even that slight noise bothered her.

"_Quelle_ _nuit_," she murmured as she scooted back on her bunk until her back was pressed up against the wall. She sat for a moment, holding her head still. She still had one hell of a headache yet no memory of anything other than storming from the bunkroom earlier that evening. She had only just returned back to the Home, she knew that. But what else did she do? It had been hours since she ran out on the other girls. "Maybe I wrote down what I was doing."

She used her other hand to open her journal and lift the page up to her eyes. Right away, using the candle that Rae had going on the dresser between their bunks, she could see that there was a message. But the message was not written in her hand. It was from Kisses.

**Layna,**

**I should be very mad at you. It's been three days since even thought about me and this journal. But, _évidemment_, I forgive you. _Je_ _fais toujours_. And, just to show you how much I care about you, I'm going to take care of your problems. _Fiez-vous_ _à moi_. You won't have to worry about Stress stealing all of David's attention from you anymore. _Je_ _Promets, mon cher_.**

**Kisses**

**--**

**Translations**:

_Mon journal précieux _– My precious journal  
_Au moins je vous ai toujours_ – At least I still have you_  
Dites-moi _- Tell me  
_Que? Me charriez-vous? Elle? _ - What? Are you kidding me? Her?  
_Seulement_ _une semaine_ – Only a week  
_Je_ _comprends_ – I understand_  
Nous devons prendre des choses lentes _- We need to take things slow  
_possession sur_ – Holding onto  
_Est_ _elle essayant de l'emmener de moi _- Is she trying to take him away from me  
_Je_ _devine non_ – I guess not_  
Mon ami _­– My friend  
_Mon dieu _ - My God  
_Quelle_ _nuit _– What a night  
_Je_ _savais qu'il était trop bon pour être vrai_ - I knew it was too good to be true  
_Évidemment_ - Of course  
_Je_ _fais toujours _– I always do  
_Fiez-vous_ _à moi_ - Trust me  
_Je_ _Promets, mon cher_ – I promise, my dear


	6. VI DRAGONFLY

**Title**: _Sealed with a Kiss _

**Author**: Stress

**Summary**: Layna Kotliar is a girl with a secret so big that she doesn't even know it herself. Will she be able to trust David with it or will she continue to rely on the only friend she's ever known, a simple leather-bound journal?

**The translations**: As you will see as the fiction begins (and continues), Layna is a French immigrant. Therefore, much of what she says is in French. When the dialogue called for it I tried to include a translation but not always. However, I will include translations at the bottom. Hopefully it will add to the experience of the story.

--

**VI. **DRAGONFLY

_Always seem to bring me down  
You're like a weight in my pocket…_

**20 August 1899**

**_Mon journal_,**

**_Oh mon Dieu. C'est juste idiot! _Even as I sit here, scribbling away, I'm still struggling to process what exactly happened. And I'm not the only one. We all seem to have been _engourdi_ _et dans le choc_. _Cela_ _ne peut pas juste être vrai._**

"Wake up, everyone. Come on, wake up!" The shrill voice preceded the dark haired girl. Moments later, after thundering up the stairs, Dragonfly made a dramatic entrance, pausing at the open bunkroom door. A few of the girls who were still catching a few more winks before rising just ignored her, Secrets included. Dragonfly was usually excited over something; today, no doubt, was no different.

Iris slowly sat up in her bunk. Stretching her arms out and reached for her glasses, she put them on and pushed them up her nose. When her eyes were focused enough that she could see Dragonfly's flushed face, she tried to calm her down. "What is the matter, Dragonfly?" she asked, using a quieter voice. Maybe if she had a low tone, Dragonfly would follow her example and quiet down.

Dragonfly panted heavily as she leaned against the frame of the door, using it for support. After her extreme entry into the room, she seemed to have lost the ability to speak. She brushed her sweat-soaked hair out of her face. She had obviously run a long distance in order to be so out of breath.

Her state seemed to alert some of the other girls to her presence. Holiday poked her head out from under the thin sheet that had covered her dark head. She yawned and nodded towards the doorway. "Hey, Dragonfly, you alright?"

She nodded first, but followed it by shaking her head emphatically. "Guys, I think I need to tell you all something," she said and let herself sink down to her knees. Having an excitable personality was one thing but being the bearer of bad news was another. Her mood was much somber than one would expect from Dragonfly.

Her morning had started even earlier than many of her comrades. After waking, she had hurriedly ran down to the distribution center so that she would be first in line when the gates opened to the newsies. While she sat there, outside the building, anxious to show Race that it was she who had won their bet about who would get there first, she overheard a pair of _World_ workers, bringing one of the newspaper carts out of the gate, discussing a certain article from the early edition. The headline: _New York_ _Child slain in Back Alley._

It was not very often that a child's murder was featured in the paper unless they were the son of some high and mighty personage but, if that was the case, the name would have been mentioned in the headline. Dragonfly found that she was curious to read the article. Just as the cart made its way past, and the second worker shut the gate behind him, she reached out and snuck one of the newspapers off the back of the cart. After it fell to the ground, she ducked low in case the cart driver had seen her. He hadn't.

Once he had turned the corner, Dragonfly straightened out and, after retrieving her spoil from the ground, began flipping through the paper looking for the article. It wasn't on the front page, but Dragonfly was not surprised. She was more surprised that it was in the newspaper at all.

The article, when she found it, was at the top of the fourth page. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't miss the large print of the headline. The block letters seemed very foreboding. Instead of intently reading through the entire article Dragonfly skimmed the piece. A few choice words and phrases leapt out at her: **_female… around seventeen or eighteen… long brown curls matted with blood and wide golden eyes, left open upon expiring… appeared to be a common street Arab except for a simple silver chain around her neck… robbery not a motive… stabbed seven times in the back…on the forehead of the victim was a blood red kiss mark…neither evidence nor leads at this time…_**

Dragonfly almost dropped the paper onto the ground. "Stress? There ain't no way," she mused and, rather than throw the paper away, she turned her eyes downward, back to the type. She forced herself, instead, to re-read the article a second time, more carefully. But, when she was done, she was even more certain. Stress was known for the silver chain she wore around her neck, a present from her dead mother. And the similarities in appearance _were_ quite uncanny.

Dragonfly looked over to where the sun was beginning to rise. She had goosebumps on her arms and she was shaking slightly. She couldn't stay out by herself right now – she had to go back to the lodging house. The other girls had to know. Just in case.

And, still clutching the paper in her hand, Dragonfly left her post at the distribution center's gate in favor of running back towards the Bottle Alley Home.

The words of the article seemed to be burned into her memory. There in the bunkroom, while on her knees, she waved the paper around. It was still clutched in her hand though she knew she didn't need it. She remembered every sordid detail outlined within.

Rae, like the other girls, also yawned and stretched out on her bunk, but she wasn't in the mood for Dragonfly's theatrics so early in the morning. "Can't it wait until we're up and dressed and walking down to the distribution center, Dragonfly?"

Dragonfly shook her head and quickly searched the bunkroom for Stress' familiar face. It had just occurred to her that if she was still asleep in bed than there was no way that the dead girl could be her. "Hey, Rae, where's Stress?" she said, her breathing more normal but her voice slightly shaking. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear Rae's answer. Stress' normal bunk appeared made and, considering Stress never made her bed – Mrs. Cook usually did midway through the day – the neat sight only confirmed her suspicion.

Rae followed Dragonfly's gaze and shrugged her shoulders, her long blonde plait resting on her shoulder. "I don't know," she answered, not looking upset. "Probably with Jack. Isn't that where she usually is?"

While the rest of the girls, realizing that they wouldn't get another minute of sleep if Rae was annoyed, began to get ready for the day, Iris glanced over at Holiday before interrupting Rae and Dragonfly's exchange. Holiday looked as nervous as Iris felt. "I don't think that Stress is out with Cowboy today. The two of them got into a huge stink yesterday and she said she wasn't talking to him again until he groveled at her feet," she said, sounding almost apologetically. Dragonfly was looking even worse at hearing that. "Dragonfly, what's wrong? You don't look too good,"

Dragonfly shook her head and lifted the paper to her eyes. It would sound more realistic, she knew, if she read the article out loud. "You guys, listen to this: 'A young girl was found slain in a back alley early this morning. The girl, a young girl, around seventeen or eighteen years of age, had long light brown curls matted with blood and wide golden eyes, left open upon expiring. There was no identification present. She appeared to be a common street Arab except for a simple silver chain around her neck. Considering the presence of the jewelry, and the brutal nature of the slaying, the police are assuming robbery was not a motive…'" she paused for effect. Some of the girls, still half-asleep, were looking at her strangely. Rae was now paying attention, though, as was Secrets. Iris and Holiday looked like they understood but said nothing yet. Dragonfly gestured to the paper. "There's more to the article and all but hear this: 'On the forehead of the victim was a blood red kiss mark.' That's why they put this bit of news in the paper – it's strange. And, I hate to be the one to say this, but doesn't that girl sound like it could be Stress?"

By now, most of the girls were listening to Dragonfly. At first it seemed like no one was going to respond. Finally, Gip, with a half-smile on her face, spoke. "That must be some other kid," she scoffed disbelievingly. "I mean, Stress can't be _dead_."

Dragonfly pointed back at the paper. "They said that the girl was wearing a silver chain. Are you telling me that Stress never told you the story about that thing a million times? If so, you were one of the lucky ones"

Rae nodded. Everyone had heard the story of Stress' chain; it had been her favorite possession. Rae's blue eyes darted back to where Stress normally would have slept. She no longer looked annoyed; instead, she looked fearful. "Dragonfly's right," she added, sounding apologetic. Maybe she shouldn't have snapped at Dragonfly earlier.

Tunes looked around at all the other girls, surprise written in her green eyes. "Listen to all of you. When we finish deciding whether or not Stress has been killed…" she said, angrily. She took a deep breath and tried again. "I mean, why don't we got out and look for her. I'm sure that she is fine."

Most of the girls nodded their heads at Tunes' logic. Without saying a word more, they proceeded to get themselves ready for the day. The silence that accompanied their morning washing was eerie and unprecedented.

When it was time to leave the Home, and it was still so early that Mrs. Cook hadn't even gone upstairs to check on them all yet, there were only two girls who remained in the bunkroom: Dragonfly and Secrets. Dragonfly, no longer on the floor, had moved herself to her bunk. Despite the hopeful tone that Tunes had managed to muster, Dragonfly was certain that the dead girl was Stress. Secrets, on the other hand, was preoccupied by a different fact all together. She had been documenting the conversation – due to Dragonfly and Rae's brief argument, none noticed Secrets drawing out her journal – but paused when she had heard the mention of the mark.

"Hey, Dragonfly? When you mentioned the kiss mark on that girl's head, what did you mean?" she asked, still on her bunk. She couldn't find the strength to move from that spot just yet.

Dragonfly looked up from her place at the edge of her bed and let her eyes fall on Secrets. She hadn't realized that she had remained behind. Shrugging her shoulders, Dragonfly rose from her bunk. As she passed Secrets on her way out of the room, she tossed the crumpled newspaper over to Secrets. "It's just something the paper had in it," she said, uneasily, narrowing her eyes at Secrets pale expression. Why was Secrets focused on the killer's perverse way of kissing the victim goodbye when it could, very well, be Stress who was that victim? It was something she was trying not to remember. With a slight wave, she headed out of the bunkroom. She kept her eyes on Secrets until she reached the stairs and had to turn around to make it down safely.

Secrets avoided Dragonfly's concerned gaze as she exited the room, backwards. She caught the paper easily and lifted it so that she could read the type:

…**_and what makes this murder more curious than the others in the past few weeks was the murderer's signature. On the forehead of the victim was a blood red kiss mark. Upon closer inspection, the police were able to discern that it was done, in fact, with the victim's own blood…_**

The words, simple words with simple meanings, triggered a memory long suppressed. Blackness enveloped her and she let the paper slip out of her grasp. As the paper landed softly beside her on her bunk, a searing pain forced Secrets back down. She was remembering…

_It was the day after she had received word of Nicolas' death. Layna was dwelling outside of Madame Pearson's office, her head down on her lap. To the average bystander she looked to be grieving the loss of her only friend. But she wasn't; she was eavesdropping. _

_Madame Pearson was not the only person in her office. Earlier that evening Layna had spied Sergeant Murphy being led inside. It was he who was speaking to her now._

"_But, Sergeant, what makes your people think that one of my girls killed poor Nicolas?" _

_Layna began to tremble as she heard Officer Murphy sigh before speaking. He must have been choosing his words carefully because, when she heard him, he sounded rehearsed. "Ma'am, when I told you earlier that the boy was stabbed, I was telling you the truth. However, what I neglected to mention was that it was a brutal crime: he was stabbed seven times, directly in his back." Layna heard the orphanage matron take in a deep breath and realized that maybe it would have been better if Sergeant Murphy kept that fact neglected forever. But he was not done. "Unfortunately, ma'am, that's not all. When the boy was turned over, for he was found face-down, there was a blemish on his forehead. It was discovered to be a child-sized kiss mark."_

_When Madame Pearson spoke again Layna could hear the upset in her voice – or, better yet, the lack of emotion that indicated how upset she truly was. "Yes, that is quite strange," she replied, hollowly._

_But, again, Sergeant was not done. "That's not the worst of it, ma'am. Initially, my men assumed that the mark was done in lipstick. However, after closer scrutiny, we have concluded that the mark was made from the his spilt blood." _

_Layna grimaced at the thought. "_C'est horrible_," she murmured to herself, disgusted. Yet she could not move herself from the spot._

_There was another pause before Madame Pearson spoke again. "Do you have any suspects, Sergeant?" Despite the severity of the revelation, Layna could hear that her curious nature was beginning to stir._

_Though she couldn't actually see him, Layna knew that Sergeant Murphy was shaking his head. "Sorry, ma'am, but no. The only idea we might have is if he had any enemies here at the orphanage. There was no sign of a struggle so we can only assume that the murderer somehow _knew _the victim."_

_Another pause and then a disappointed answer._ _"Oh, I see."_

_"Well, I'll let you know if we find anything out, as I'm sure you will do the same for the police." There was a brief sound of moving furniture. The sergeant must have risen from his seat._

_Another rustle._ _Madame Pearson was walking out with him. "Oh, definitely. If I hear any word of a connection to Nicolas' death, I'll be sure to let you know."_

_Layna heard the rustling and quickly jumped up and escaped to her room. You got two weeks indoor punishment if you were caught snooping around the headmistress' office._

"Secrets? Are you awake?"

Secrets slowly opened her eyes as the remnants of her unconsciousness faded with every second that passed. It took her a moment to realize where she was and who was calling her. The voice was deep and, though she remembered she had never left the Home that morning, she knew it wasn't one of the girls. "David?" she asked, focusing on his concerned expression.

"Secrets, are you alright?" he said in way of a response. He was crouching down so that he could see into her bunk. His arm was outstretched and she wondered if his touch had caused her to awaken. She nodded slowly, rubbing her head slowly. One hell of a headache was growing. "Yeah, I'm fine. I had a bit of a headache so I thought I would sleep a little later than normal. I'll just make it up with the evening post."

David nodded as he stood up but she could see that his thoughts were elsewhere. As soon as she had affirmed that she was alright, his blue eyes adopted a glazed expression. "That's good," he said absently, waiting for her to rise from her bunk. She had changed into fresh clothes the night before – she had spilled something on her other white blouse – so she was decent. But, regardless, she had been under the impression that boys were never allowed in the upper levels of the Home. Mrs. Cook was very particular about that rule. She glanced up at him. "David, does Mrs. Cook know you're up here?"

He nodded again, sadly this time. She couldn't miss the emotion. "Mrs. Cook isn't here right now," he said and, before Secrets could question his statement, he continued. "She went down with Jack to the City Morgue. They wanted to see…"

Secrets had forgotten all about Dragonfly and the article she had brought with her back to the Home. After her most recent spell, Nicolas and his murder were still fresh on her mind. "Wanted to see what?"

"There was an article in the newspaper," David began, and she could see that he was uncomfortable in telling her this. Or maybe it wasn't discomfort but grief that kept him from speaking. "A girl from the area was found murdered this morning, a few blocks away. The Coroner wanted Mrs. Cook, as proprietor of the closes all-girl Home in the neighborhood, to come check it out. Jack – well, he had stopped by here early to talk to Stress and, after talking to some of the others about what that article contained, wanted to go, too. He went with Mrs. Cook."

From the tone of his voice, Secrets knew there had to be more to the story than that. "And?"

He sighed and, at once, she knew she was right. "The girl – she _was_ Stress. Secrets, Stress is dead."

**And, _oui._** **It was Stress. _Pauvre_ Jack had to go downtown and see if the girl was one of the kids from the area, considering she was found so close. _Je_ _ne peux pas imaginer _what it would be like to identify the body of the person you loved the most. There's always _espoir. _I didn't have _espoir_ when my parents were killed, but I feel for him. _Pauvre_ Jack.**

She didn't know what to say right away. She was torn between feeling horrible guilt for being upset at the girl yesterday, and feeling sympathy for Jack. And he had been the one to identify her, too. "Oh, David, I don't know what to say." She approached him and, slowly, placed her arms around him. It was a gesture of support but, as if was the closest she had allowed herself to get to him, it was a gesture of love as well. 

David, just as slowly, placed his arms around her. Tears came to his eyes but he did not allow them to fall. There would be a time for tears but for now – for now, Jack needed him to be strong. And he would be. "Me, too, Secrets," he replied, speaking into her hair. "She was one of my closest friends. I don't know what I'm going to do without her."

Secrets tensed at his words. The twinge of jealousy she had experienced the day before came back almost at once. Before she could stop herself, she found that three words had slipped from her tongue. "Just a friend?"

David let go of her immediately, drawing himself back so quickly it was like he had been slapped. "I just found out that Stress was _murdered_ and you say something like that to me? Do you want to know the truth, Secrets? Do you want to know if I loved her? Yes. I did. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

A tense silence followed and she lowered her arms to her side. She kept her eyes focused on anything but David's hurt expression. She was the one who had caused it. "_Je_ _suis désolé_," she whispered, finally.

David ran a hand through his curly brown hair and took a step forward, a step closer to her. "No, Secrets. I'm the one who should be sorry – I shouldn't take my anger out on you. It's not like _you _hurt Stress like that."

She nodded, but took a step back. She was afraid of touching him again.

David took the hint and stopped. "Well," he said, and she could hear the strain in his voice, "I have to head over to the Lodging House. I want to talk to Jack."

"Do you want me to come?" she asked, her voice still as low.

He shook his head and she didn't blame him at all. "No, it's probably better if you stay here. I keep forgetting that you've only been here a few days but you haven't had the chance to see an angry Jack. We'll have to save that for later."

"Yeah, later," she echoed and sat back down on her bunk.

David looked down at her sadly before forcing a smile. "I'll come back tomorrow, alright?"

She nodded and then watched as he bowed his head, stuck his hands in his pockets, and headed back out of the bunkroom. Secrets, once she was alone, laid back down on her bunk, staring up at the bottom of the bed above her. How different one day can make.

She was not sure how much time passed between his quick visit and when she finally shook herself out of her reverie but, when Secrets finally sat back up, the first thing she did was reach for her journal. She might as well use the unusual quiet to finish writing down her thoughts.

But, underneath her earlier scribbles, was a succinct message, written in that familiar childish scrawl.

**_Mon cher_,**

**_Il_** **_n'était rien_**

Kisses

**--**

**Translations**:

_Oh mon Dieu. C'est juste idiot!_ – Oh my God. This is just crazy!  
_Cela_ _ne peut pas juste être_ _vrai_ – It just can't be true  
_Engourdi_ _et dans le choc_ – Made numb and in shock  
_C'est_ _horrible_ – That's horrible  
_Je_ _ne peux pas imaginer_ – I just can't imagine  
_Espoir_ – Hope  
_Je_ _suis désolé_ – I'm sorry.  
_Il_ _n'était rien _– It was nothing


	7. VII KISSES

**Title**: _Sealed with a Kiss _

**Author**: Stress

**Summary**: Layna Kotliar is a girl with a secret so big that she doesn't even know it herself. Will she be able to trust David with it or will she continue to rely on the only friend she's ever known, a simple leather-bound journal?

**The translations**: As you will see as the fiction begins (and continues), Layna is a French immigrant. Therefore, much of what she says is in French. When the dialogue called for it I tried to include a translation but not always. However, I will include translations at the bottom. Hopefully it will add to the experience of the story.

--

**VII.** KISSES

Everytime you come around  
Damn those cowboys and kisses…

After the short message left by Kisses on the 20th, the message scrawled in response to Secrets' entry chronicling the news of Stress' murder, Secrets had shoved her journal inside her pillow case and left it there. She was afraid of what else might be written if she continued her daily narrations. Anytime she broke down and reached inside the grubby case to pull out the book, the terse words from that night flashed before her eyes and, as quick as she could, she would pull her hand back.

It wasn't until the 25th, near on five days later, that Secrets finally mustered up enough courage to draw out the journal. Upon opening it to the last page full of text, Secrets found that her brief respite from documentation did nothing to curtail Kisses' messages.

**21 August 1899**

**_Mon cher_,**

**_Comment allez-vous? Mon ami, ma soeur, mon Layna… _I hope everything is going all well without that Stress occupying all of your David's time. Isn't it much better now? I know – you don't have to thank me. It's all for you, _mon_ _amour_. Until later.**

**Kisses**

When Layna read that first message following Stress' murder, she stared at the page for three-quarters of an hour, trying to understand it. The message of the 21st was similar to the ones that Kisses used to leave in her journal – friendly and supportive; it was quite unlike the messages that she had been finding ever since she left the orphanage and moved into the Bottle Alley Home.

But, when she reread the first few lines, she couldn't help but find irony in Kisses words. Regardless of what she meant by 'you don't have to thank me', the phantom author obviously thought that, after Stress' murder, Secrets would have much more time with David, when, in fact, the truth was quite the opposite.

Ever since Jack returned from the Coroner's, he had refused to leave the bunkroom over at the Newsboys' Lodging House on Duane Street; he was mourning and no one wanted to take that away from him. David, as his closest friend, was the only one who would stay with him. The other boys were too taken aback to have anything to offer the distraught boy.

Because David had not left Jack's side since he returned from identifying Stress, Secrets had gone selling with a few of the girls from the Home: Rae, Gip and Tunes. The three of them, that first day following the news, had spent the morning reliving memories of Stress, somewhat in denial that she was gone. Death was not new to them all – but murder was.

Secrets, who had only known the girl for a few days before she was killed, had nothing to add to the conversation. Instead of adding phony sentiments, Secrets spent the time wondering if there was any sort of connection between Kisses' strange message and Stress' murder.

Whether there was or not, Secrets did not have the heart to write in her journal that night. She was too nervous to write down any of the thoughts that were whirling around her head. While it was normally her habit to sort out her thoughts through her writing, she just couldn't do that this time.

Which only resulted in a change of tone in the next evening's message from Kisses when Secrets read it five days later.

**22 August 1899**

**_Mon cher_,**

**Why was there no writing yesterday? _Est_ _tout d'accord? _I don't see how anything could be wrong. You don't have to worry about _ce_ _vagabond _anymore. David is only your's. _D'accord?_**

**Kisses**

_Right_, Secrets scoffed to herself when she read this passage. That day was almost identical to the one before it: Jack remained in the bunkroom, depressed; David remained by his side, trying to talk to him; Secrets went out selling with some of the girls. She was beginning to miss the times she had sold the morning edition with David; she had already suffered from the loneliness that followed, sitting by herself as the evenings concluded.

She did understand exactly why David was spending all of his time with Jack. She just didn't like it.

Which, of course, meant that Kisses _hated _it.

The two days that followed went by almost as the first two days had with one minor exception. On that second night, Secrets saw David for a few minutes. He had been on his way to the apartment he shared with his family, tired after another complete day of trying to convince Jack that it wasn't his fault that Stress had died, when he made a brief stop at the Bottle Alley Home. It was the first time he had done so since he began his daily vigils inside the bunkroom where Jack spent his days pacing and being angry. As surprised as Secrets was to see David, she grew a little annoyed when all he wanted to do was talk about Jack and what the boy was going through.

"I know that I haven't been spending any time with you, Secrets, but you have to understand. You see, the day before and the actual day that Stress was murdered, she and Jack got into an argument. You heard the two of them while we were selling so you know how bad it was. Well, Jack is not too happy right now because they never got the chance to patch up their spat – he thinks that this whole thing is his fault." David sighed just then and – for a moment – Secrets felt bad for him.

But, rather than focus on his apparent misery, Secrets just smiled at his company. "That's alright, _mon_ _amour_. _Je_ _comprends._" Which was a total lie, of course, because she didn't _really _understand – but as long as he was there with her, well, then everything was alright.

David seemed comforted at her words; he didn't hear the superficiality of the tone. "_Merci_."

He stayed outside with Secrets, on the porch of the Bottle Alley Home, until Mrs. Cook poked her head out and announced that it would shortly be curfew time. After David had placed a tentative kiss against her cheek, Secrets felt she was finally over her irrational fear of documenting her days. _Why am I so nervous, anyway?_

**25 August 1899**

**Layna –**

**_D'accord_, Layna… I was being nice – I was being _votre_ _ami_. I forgave you for befriending others and even tried to _help_ you keep that friendship. And what do I get in return? _Je_ _suis ignoré, oublié._ Is that how you feel as you sit by yourself in the lodging house while David spends his days with Jack? I don't like that feeling Layna and I'm sure that you don't either. I will take care of you. But you must write to me, Layna. _Vous_ _devez m'écrire_. How do expect me to help you if you don't tell me. _Je_ _dois savoir._**

**Kisses**

It was when she opened her journal that she read the messages that had been written by Kisses in her absence; they grew increasingly more disturbed, culminating in the most threatening passage she had ever seen within. Just then, she knew why she had been so nervous.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. She reached beside her and picked up the fountain pen that had fallen out of the leather book. "_J'écris_ _mieux dans ici_," she murmured to herself. It was surprising how fearful a person she had never met could make her.

**25 August 1899**

**_Mon journal_,**

**_Je_** **_suis ici. _**

**I know it's no excuse but it truly has been a strange few days around here – it's so hard to be surrounded by so many depressed people. And it's _encore plus dur_ to be surrounded by so many depressed people when David isn't one of them. I _am_ hurt and jealous at all the time he is now spending with Jack. I feel _intéressé_ to admit it, but in a way _soulagé_. I don't know why I haven't been writing my feelings out. You truly are the only friend I can turn to right now. **

**It all star—**

And, once she got the momentum going and knew exactly what she wanted to write down, it happened again: Secrets had her first black out spell in the past three days.

Knock, knock. _Officer Murphy quietly led the seven-year-old Layna to the door of the large 5th Street Orphanage and waited after knocking on the large door._

_A stout woman with her long black hair knotted at the nape of her neck answered the door. Her dark eyes lit up with recognition as she spied the man. Her lips quirked into a slight smile and she bowed her head. She didn't seem bothered that he was calling so late. "May I help you, Officer Murphy?"_

_Officer Murphy removed his police hat and stepped aside to reveal Layna. "Sorry about disturbing you so late, Madame Pearson, but this is important," he said._

_Madame Pearson took one look at Layna and motioned for the two of them to step inside. "Come in, come in," she said gracefully and watched as the pair entered the still of the lobby. Once she was sure that the two of them were standing inside of the orphanage, she closed the door behind them all and began to walk down the hallway. "Now before we have a talk about the wee one here, let me show her to a bunk. It seems like she might have had a rough day and a little girl like her should get some sleep." Madame Pearson continued to talk until she reached a particular door on her left. "Here, I think this room will do fine for now," she added. She opened the door and gestured for Layna to enter._

_Layna thanked Madame Pearson with a quiet "_Merci" _and waited for her to lead Officer Murphy to her office to talk before approaching the only other occupant awake at so late of an hour. It was a young boy, a year or so older than she was, with sloppy dark hair and brown eyes that were hidden by glasses. He had been sitting atop the bunk closest to the door, one away from Layna's designated bed. He waited for Layna to climb on top of the vacant bunk before he whispered in a lisping voice, "Hi, there. My name is Nicolas. What's yours?"_

_All at once the day's events caught up with Layna and she felt a sudden rush of pain flood into her head. It took a second to pass and when it did, the little girl stared her dull, lifeless blue eyes straight ahead, almost ignoring the interested boy. "_Mon nom est _Kisses." _

When the spell faded, Secret found herself on her bunk. It was dark and the other girls were already asleep for the night. "What happened?" she mumbled and sat up, setting her back against her headboard. Secrets put her head in her hands, waiting for the familiar pain to leave her head. The last thing she had remembered was getting ready for bed and writing in her journal. "My journal," she said urgently, yet quietly; she didn't want to disturb any of the other girls. Her journal was no longer resting on her bunk.

Secrets crawled out of the bunk and searched frantically until she found where the journal had fallen – it was nestled between the bunk where she slept and the bunk where Iris slept.

Picking it up and clutching it to her chest momentarily, Secrets flipped the journal open to the page she had been writing on. There was her entry, only half finished but, already, there was a response.

**Layna,**

**_Bon_, you listened to me and wrote back. _Comme_ _j'ai cru que vous._ I know you so well, Layna, I really do. I must admit that I didn't like the idea of you pouring your heart and soul into someone that was not me when you first mentioned that you were making friends, but I see now that if it makes you happy, you must be happy. And I will be the one to make sure of it. _Vous_ _verrez._**

**_Quand_** **_vous êtes heureux, je suis heureux._**

**Kisses**

--

**Translations**:

_Comment allez-vous? _– How are you?  
_Mon ami, ma soeur, mon Layna…_ – My friend, my sister, my Layna…  
_Est_ _tout d'accord?_ - Is everything alright?  
_Ce_ _vagabond _– That tramp  
_Je_ _comprends _– I understand  
_D'accord, Layna_ – Alright, Layna  
_Votre_ _ami_ – Your friend  
_Je_ _suis ignoré, oublié_ - I'm ignored, forgotten  
_Vous_ _devez m'écrire_ – You must write to me  
_Je_ _dois savoir_ – I need to know  
_J'écris_ _mieux dans ici _– I better write in here  
_Je_ _suis ici_ – I'm here  
_Encore plus dur_ – Even harder  
_Intéressé_ – Selfish  
_Soulagé_ – Relieved  
_Mon nom est_ – My name is  
_Bon - _Good_  
Comme j'ai cru que vous _– Just like I thought you would  
_Vous_ _verrez_ – You will see  
_Quand_ _vous êtes heureux, je suis heureux_ – When you are happy, I am happy


	8. VIII MORRIS

**Title**: _Sealed with a Kiss _

**Author**: Stress

**Summary**: Layna Kotliar is a girl with a secret so big that she doesn't even know it herself. Will she be able to trust David with it or will she continue to rely on the only friend she's ever known, a simple leather-bound journal?

**The translations**: As you will see as the fiction begins (and continues), Layna is a French immigrant. Therefore, much of what she says is in French. When the dialogue called for it I tried to include a translation but not always. However, I will include translations at the bottom. Hopefully it will add to the experience of the story.

--

**VIII.** MORRIS

_Gotta_ _find myself everytime you go away_

**26 August 1899**

**Mon journal,**

**_Un_** **_autre beau jour à Manhattan. _****The sun is just about ready to rise and I can feel the cool breeze of a _jour doux_. I know that it is quite early in the morning to be righting in you, _mon_ _journal_ – it can't be past five in the morning – but I just awoke from the strangest dream. _Bien, il a ressemblé plus à un cauchemar._ It started out with me walking about downtown…**

_It was late, at least four hours past Sunset. Secrets crept down the deserted, dirt-filled streets, kicking garbage out of her path as she went along. But it wasn't Secrets. At least, not quite. The girl, with her long raven hair and crystal blue eyes, looked exactly like Secrets. But it just was not her. _

_The girl was laughing to herself as she continued in her brisk walk. It was an eerie sound, low and kept under her breath. However, it was, unmistakably, the sound of a little girl's laughter. "I'm coming for you, Cowboy. Then my Layna will be with her David. You will not interfere any longer. _Je vais vous recevoir._"_ _Just like the laugh, her voice was reminiscent of a young child; it was clipped with a faint French accent but still retained a hint of a lisp. _

_As she, the one who resembled Secrets so, slunk around the back ways and alleys to avoid coming in contact with anyone that might question her actions, she reached into the worn and faded leather pouch slung over her right shoulder. " _Je viens, je viens_," she said solemnly as she drew out a knife from the bag; the knife's steel blade was about three inches long with an ornate wooden handle connected at the base. She ran a finger across the length of the blade; without any pressure, the blade did not pierce her skin. But that was alright. The blade was already stained, caked over with a liberal amount of dried blood._

_The feel of the smooth steel against her hand filled the girl with unexplained giddiness. She was smiling wildly; her feet, rather than walk normally, were performing an intricate skip. She was only a few blocks away from the Lodging House of Duane Street. She would be there before she knew it. And she was glad._

_That's when, despite her excited anticipation, she heard faint steps behind her._ _She paused; the steps stopped. She was being followed._

_The girl positioned the knife in a manner that the person following her could not see it before spinning around. She was prepared to use the knife if she needed to. She had it hidden so that the person behind her would never suspect an attack. "_Qui est là?_ Who's there? _

_It was a boy. She squinted her eyes so that she could make him out. He was a head taller than her, with shaggy dark hair hidden under a bowler cap. He had a thick mustache that made him just look evil. If it was not for the knife she was clutching, she might be afraid._

_He obviously had not expected her to turn around and confront him. His hands were thrown up in defense. "Hey…Secrets, right? Hold on. I just wanted to have a couple of words with you." _

_She almost confessed that her name was not Secrets but held her tongue. He did not need to know that. Instead, she brushed her long black hair out of her face as she spoke to him, quietly. "_Je suis désolémonsieur, _but I'm very busy and I don't have the time to have a talk with you."_

_The boy looked confused. He removed his dark hat and scratched his head. "Again with that strange talk. Don't you remember me? Morris Delancey, you know. I was the one who found you sleeping on the streets before Cowboy and the Mouth took you over." He paused and placed his hat back on his head, a wicked smile stretching his face. "I've been meaning to talk to you but I always see you with those newsies. But I guess, now, I don't have to worry about that, heh?" He was almost laughing to himself now as he remembered about Stress's death and Cowboy's upset. There was nothing like seeing someone you do not like feeling pain – _unless, of course, you were the person to cause that pain_, he thought. In his own way, he applauded the work of Stress's murderer. He never liked the girl._

"_I guess not," she replied testily. Something about the way he casually mentioned Jack and David made her peeved. She bowed her head slightly. "Now, if you don't mind, I really must be on my way." Then, without even giving him the opportunity to respond, she turned around again and began to walk forward. She was just passing an alleyway that was separating adjoining street blocks when she heard him speak._

_His voice was almost whining now. "Oh, come on, Secrets. You know that you'd like to get to know me better."_

"_Actually, I'd rather not," she replied without even turning around. However, because she was still facing forward, she did not see him reach out for her; it was a surprise when she felt his touch, his hand grabbing her shoulder._

_"Secrets, wait. I just want to talk to you."_

_She tensed under the slight pressure of his hand. _Il veut me parler ? Bien, il peut dire son adieu final, _she thought. Slowly, she spun around to face him. "Morris?"_

_He dropped his hand at once. Secrets' left hand was kept behind her back, he noticed, but her right hand was lifted, her pointer finger beckoning him to step forward. Meanwhile, she was take deliberate steps backward. "Mmm," he said, watching as she went._

_Her lips quirked upwards, sending a seductive smile in his direction. She continued to talk backwards, stepping into the darkness of the alley. "You want to talk to me, Morris? I would really like that," she purred._

_Morris licked his lips eagerly and rubbed his hands together. If she was inviting him into a dark alleyway, there was probably only one thing on her mind – the same thing that made up his perverted psyche; it was not conversation. Without thinking twice, he followed her._

"_Come here," she commanded, pointing him towards a corner in the depths of the alley. She gestured for him to take a seat, using the moonlight to guide him to the spot. He did so but with a doubtful expression on his face. No matter who she was or what she was willing to do with him, nobody told one of the Delancey brothers what to do._

_She caught the look on his face and laughed at him; the loud seemed almost cruel and entirely at odds with her demeanor. "What's the matter, Morris? _Est quelque chose qui ne vas pas_?" He was looking at her strangely and opened his mouth to answer her question. And promptly shut it when he saw, through the glint of the moonlight, that she had withdrawn an old, rusty knife and was fingering the blade as she smiled down on him._

_He swallowed, nervously. In the silence that followed, you could almost hear the saliva traveling down his throat. It took him a few moments before he was able to gather enough nerve to question her intent. "Hey, Secrets? What are you doing with that there knife?"_

"Silencieux_, Morris," she commanded as she, while still carefully holding her knife out, climbed over him and straddled his lap. "My name ain't Secrets."_

_Morris visibly relaxed once he felt her slight weight settle on his lap. _Oh, she wants me_. He wiggled below her, making himself more comfortable before lifted his head up to look her in the eye. "Well, then, what should I call you, not-Secrets?" Her eyes were trained upon, staring and unblinking. The intensity in which she looked at him scared him; he lowered his eyes, focusing on her chest instead. "You look like you need a good man, not that twerp Jacobs. And I'm sure that I'm all the man you need," he added, leering at her._

_He might have escaped his predicament if it not were the careless way he defamed David. She could not have that. Slowly she lifted the knife upwards, trying to remain discreet so as not to draw his attention from her chest to her hand. "My name is Kisses, _vous imbécile_. And I don't need any one but my Layna," she hissed. Before Morris had the chance to move, scream, dodge her strike – anything – she brought the knife downward, plunging it straight into his heart. She continued to do so, sharply jerking the knife up and down._

_She continued to stab him repeatedly until she reached her seventh blow – a stab no more necessary than the second due to the fatal positioning of her first hit. Once she had finished, she climbed off of his lap and placed the knife – the warm, bloody knife – to her puckered lips. Like her name, she kissed the firm steel. When she drew the knife away, her lips were covered in Morris Delancey's spilt blood._

_She bent down and knelt beside his body, eerily still now that the life had been stolen from it. She placed her blade against his shirt and used the material to wipe away the rest of the blood. His face, she saw up close, was frozen in a permanently surprised expression. It made her smile._

_Her blue eyes were twinkling madly as she leaned in and placed a chaste kiss against his cool forehead. When she pulled away, there was a bloody kiss mark in the center of the flesh. "_Et ce, vous l'idiot, est pourquoi on m'appelle 'Kisses'_," she whispered into his unhearing ear before backing away from him._

_Once she was out of the alley, she looked briefly to her right and then her left. She made her decision then and began to head back to the Bottle Alley Home for Girls. "You've received _une remise de peine, _Cowboy. But tomorrow, we shall meet," she murmured before she raised her knife – no longer warm or bloody – to her lips. She pressed her lips against the steel again and then placed it back into her leather bag._

_One it was safely tucked away, she placed her right hand against her temple. One of her excruciatingly painful headaches was approaching and she knew she would never finish her night's business. She would have to wait._

_Tomorrow she would make her Layna happy._

**And then I woke up. _Étrange, non_? **

**Thank goodness that was a only a dream. It just seemed so real to me, especially since the murderous girl in my dream called herself 'Kisses'. I think I still have Stress's brutal murder on my brain. The boy in my dream seemed to have been killed in the same manner.**

**_Que_** **_pensez-vous?_**

**I just needed to write that down. I haven't had one of those _cauchemars_ _de couteau_ since I was twelve years old. It really made me nervous.**

**I just hope that it is the last of them.**

**_Le vôtre_,  
Secrets.**

She signed her name to the entry with a flourish, drawing out the second 's' so that it was curled under the length of her adopted nickname. With a sigh, she stuck her fountain pen inside the binding of her journal before sliding it inside her pillowcase.

Her action accidentally knocked over a worn and faded pouch that was resting at the head of her bunk. She was too tired to notice it, however; instead, she laid her head upon her pillow and decided to fall back asleep. After all, she still had an hour or so before having to get up for the day.

Just as she fell back asleep, she murmured to herself. "It was only just a dream…"

--

**Translations**:

_Un autre beau jour à Manhattan – _Another beautiful day in Manhattan_  
Jour doux – _Sweet day_  
__Bien, il a ressemblé plus à un cauchemar _– Well, it was more like a nightmare  
_Je_ _vais vous recevoir_ - I'm going to get you  
_Je_ _viens, je viens _- I'm coming, I'm coming_  
Qui est là? _– Who's there?  
_Je_ _suis désolé, monsieur_ – I'm sorry, sir  
_Il veut me parler ? Bien, il peut dire son adieu final_ - He wants to talk to me? Well, he can say his final goodbyes  
_Est_ _quelque chose qui ne vas pas?_ – Is something wrong?  
_Silencieux, Morris_ – Quiet, Morris  
_Vous_ _imbecile _– You fool  
_Et ce, vous l'idiot, est pourquoi on m'appelle 'Kisses'_ - And that, you idiot, is why I am called 'Kisses'  
_Une_ _remise de peine _– Reprieve  
_Étrange, non? _– Strange, no?  
_Que_ _pensez-vous?_ – What do you think?  
_Cauchemars_ _de couteau_ – Knife nightmares  
_Le vôtre_ - Yours


End file.
